Le Petit Chat
by A-Spirit
Summary: COMPLETE! AU. SSHP. The Spy who became an Artist. The Child who needed a home. The Recluse who became a Teacher and the Boy who saved the world. Sometimes, age is just a number and love can never be wrong.
1. Part 1of5

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Warning:****_Slash. Alternate Universe. 'Out of Characterness'. HBP Spoilers._**

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **The Spy who became an Artist. The Child who needed a home. The Recluse who became a Teacher and the Boy who saved the world. Sometimes, age is just a number and love can save the world.

**Dedication:** To _Silverphoenix69_ who kept me sane while I wrote this, and to _Orionnaire_ for rescuing me and my French so many times.

**Author:****_Spirit_**

**NB: Story contains FIVE parts. Harry's age changes in each 'part'. To avoid confusion, keep this in mind as you read!**

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_**Le Petit Chat**_

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**Part I**

The rain was setting by the time Severus was ready to leave, but he paid no attention to this. He would walk soaked and sick if he had to. He needed time out of the small studio that he called home and something as petty as rain was not going to stop him. Besides, it would help to break the silence or at least the monotony of his days. He liked the silence. The constant state of feeling guilt and regret, he could have done without, but time healed all wounds. Though, he was still waiting on the healing process to do its duty.

Five years, four days and counting.

That was the tally of how long he had lived with his sins. Well, not his sins exactly. He knew it wasn't his fault. He knew that he had done his best but they had still died and he still felt responsible. How was he to pay back his debt to the dead? It was a question that he had asked himself over and over but there was no solution that was acceptable. Most of them involved a healthy dose of reality and the courage to assimilate back into proper society.

As far as everyone knew Severus Snape no longer existed.

It was a name that once belonged to a wizard who had joined the wrong side. The wizard had not died but he may as well have. He was nameless now. No past, present or future because there were no people in his life to assign him one. Alone, silent and invisible to the people of this new era he was only as real as the stories that they told each night to their offspring.

He knew it. He could hear the whispers. Never mind that it had been years.

The Slytherin. No, the Spy. Some of the whispers had another tune to them, if he only paid attention to hear. The Death Eater, with the Dark Mark on his arm, who had betrayed his classmates by daring to join the side of evil. The deaths that had happened. He had been good at being bad after all. The Traitor. Well, actually not that traitor but one nonetheless. He and his comrades had sold their lives to the monster with a name too dark to say. The white shrouded in black. The recluse now. And one that had surprised all those who knew. The artist. Hidden. Talented.

The Spy who had become an artist.

It had a surreal ring to it, even when he said it in his head. He silently said it over and over, followed by words of explanation or begs of forgiveness. The dead could not forgive however. If he were brave enough he would seek out the ones who could grant him this reprieve. But, he wasn't a Gryffindor and Slytherins knew only how to be cunning.

The rain was pouring by the time he turned onto the street. Somewhere between Muggle-ville and So-what, he had lost track of the time. Since he couldn't very well go waving his wand about to use a time-telling spell he was left walking and walking for hours. And still the rain came down. Silent thanks went to whoever it was that was smart enough to invent the water-repelling spell. There were just some things that potions were too good to be used for.

Potions. Potions Master. His list of professions was long indeed.

It was the flash of peach that caught his attention. A rosier shade of peach. Peach mixed with a hint of red and the subtlety that was the colour white, to make the perfect blend of skin tone. With a mop of black hair that was not quite the shade of ebony that his own hair was. The figure was curled half lying on the mesh-looking metal of the muggle park bench. At some point the rain had thoroughly soaked him but now the little figure bent the droplets of water even in his sleep.

Severus could honestly say that he had never seen a child with that level of magic before. Most wizards relied on potions for protection when they slept because charms and spells only worked when one was conscious. Except for this child, apparently.

Severus walked over to him, a little reluctantly but determined. Up close the mop of hair was slicked over the tiny forehead and a good bit of it mingled with long lashes. He stirred, flattening the fringes of his wet hair over his forehead with a small hand, in a gesture that seemed automatic as he rose from his seat. Severus warily held his ground as the eyelashes fluttered upwards and the most amazing shade of green eyes looked up at him. They were the colour of summer grass but lit in childish innocence as if sparks of light illuminated them from within.

"Hello," the child whispered softly. "Are you going to take me home?"

"Home?" Severus asked just as softly. "Where do you live?"

"I live at Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." The reply was rotary.

"And who taught you how to say that?"

A small blush and a smile this time. "My Aunt Petunia."

"Do you live with this aunt?"

"Yes sir."

"What is your name?"

"Harry."

"Just Harry?"

He fiddled with the hem of his small shirt. "My Uncle Vernon says not to tell anyone my last name."

"How old are you?"

"I am five years old." Proud again, because he remembered.

"I suppose your Aunt Petunia taught you to say that too."

"Yes sir."

"Well where is your aunt and uncle now?"

Green eyes darkened with doubt. "I don't know."

"How did you get here?"

"My aunt took me and my cousin Dudley to the park but she's gone. She told me to stay right here and I stayed."

"Do you always listen to such preposterous instructions young man? It's raining, why didn't you try to find your way home?"

"She'll come back!" Indignant then, although 'preposterous' had him obviously baffled.

"So they have left you alone like this before?"

Silence.

"Yes I thought so."

He was being very brave, fighting tears. Severus didn't like the look as the boy tried to unravel the thread on his grey shirt. His little fingers plucked at it. With his lower lip clenched between his teeth as his head bowed, small wisps of wet hair managed to separate from the mass of black still clinging to his head. He made quite the little image of innocence standing there. Severus gave in to whatever it was that clawed at the pit of his stomach at the look of tears in such pretty little eyes. He had seen eyes like that before, although those had been burning with anger. They reminded him of the debt he still owed to the dead.

"I cannot take you home. I don't know where this Privet Drive is, but I can have you over to my studio. I'm sure you probably feel rather uncomfortable in those wet clothes and you look as if your aunt and uncle haven't fed you for a year. Perhaps you'll come with me for a proper meal or at least until the storm has passed?"

His tone was all business-like as he proposed his solution. He had no idea what sort of intelligence someone of five managed, but he thought it insane to dumb himself down to that level.

Harry simply nodded. "Alright, but you'll bring me back here when the rain stops falling, right? My Aunt Petunia will be very angry if I don't come back. You won't steal me will you?"

"Steal you?" Severus looked down at him thoughtfully. "The idea had briefly crossed my mind but I'm not one to suffer fools lightly and I should think I am above even that. No I'll return you here as quickly as possible, provided you don't give me reason to send you back sooner."

They walked back in silence as each was caught in their own web of thought. Severus' stride took four of the little person's at his side so the walk was a little slower than it could have been. They knew each other's name now and Severus even knew a little more about his companion than he cared to but neither of them was the chatty type.

Severus actually hated to break the silence. "We're here."

"Oh." Green eyes blinked. "It's pretty."

He blushed as he said that as if he was barely ever allowed to give his opinion. Severus looked at him as he ducked in shyness and he couldn't help thinking that perhaps that was the case. The bits of information that he had gathered made him slightly uncomfortable and not just in the realization that although he couldn't stand children, this little boy had managed to capture his attention for a prolonged period.

"Pretty or not, it is all that I own."

There were three regularly occupied rooms - a bedroom, a bathroom and an everything-else room - but 'studio' was the name that he had dubbed it. There were canvases lined along the walls and paint sitting on the floor. Brushes were left balancing on any available space. For furniture there was a small couch near the centre of the room and a table and chair, for dining, behind it. There were paintings everywhere too of course. Hanging on the walls, drying where they were propped up against something else, lying on the mattress that was shoved into a corner for sleeping, the paintings gave the room a surreal air. Looking down at Harry, Severus supposed that this was what procured the comment of beauty. At his height the paintings were probably the only things worth admiring.

They ate in silence too.

Severus didn't have an house elf and it had been quite some time since he remembered to cook, so he relied on a quick flick of his wand and a spell that his mother had taught him years ago when she fell ill. The broth was simple because of the simplicity of the magic that made it. He had always liked the taste though because really, he had no other choice. Severus hoped that Harry liked it. It had no vegetables to deter from the taste and besides, he couldn't imagine someone as skinny as his little guest turning down food offered for free.

"Would you like some more?"

Harry shook his head.

Severus contemplated a drying spell but thought it best not to startle the child. When he had made the soup Harry had been preoccupied gazing in awe at the painting of a dragon that Severus had been working on just that morning. Just that morning, before mail had arrived. Before Severus had found the need to clear his head. Now that Harry had refused more soup there was no reason for Severus to whip out his wand. And although his mind could not entirely comprehend the reality of a wizard, as powerful as this child, not understanding what magic was, Severus thought to spare himself the bother of actually explaining. Besides, he could always dry the child later. Perhaps give him a potion to prevent him catching a cold also.

"You look like a wet little cat," Severus said thoughtfully, effectively breaking the new silence that they had fallen into.

Harry smiled his baby smile and ducked his head shyly again. "I like cats."

"I bet you do," Severus commented dryly. "Unfortunately you don't have quite the survival capabilities that they are rumoured to have and although nine lives would be beneficial at this point, I'd rather not assume that dying of a cold is beneath you. We will have to remedy that likelihood."

He moved away from the table. Since he had been standing to eat it was easy to manoeuvre his way to the other side of the room to fetch the potion that he would need. He showed Harry the vial just so as not to scare the child. Children hated medication, he remembered. Harry however seemed not to care. In fact he seemed pleased.

"One would think you've never been taken care of before," Severus said, thinking out aloud as he gave Harry a dose. "It's quite disgusting tasting you know so swallow quickly. I suppose you can feel lucky that you were never given medicine like this before."

Harry shuddered when he swallowed the potion. Severus took pity on him.

"Go lay on the couch and try to sleep. It will work better if you're not awake and I bet you would no sooner wish to remember the taste than you would if you happened to get sick." He instructed.

Harry didn't even think twice to follow the command. Instead he curled into the couch and seemed to immediately fall asleep. Considering that Severus had found him sleeping, it was no surprise really. Severus let him rest there for a while before finally giving in and pulled out his wand. He stood over the little figure, ready to cast the spell when he spotted it. Now that the child wasn't taking random swipes to hide it in his nervous little habit, Severus could see what hid beneath the fringes of wet black hair.

It was a tiny little scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on the child's forehead.

Severus' first impulse was to back away from the chair as quickly as humanly possible. The second was to levitate the child out of his presence. The third was to exact revenge against this offspring of the previous bane of his life, but that was silly because he still had a wizard debt to pay.

In the end he simply cast the drying spell on little Harry Potter before staring in awe at the true implications.

This little boy had saved the world at the price of his parents' lives. He had killed the Dark Lord and was left with only a lightning bolt mark. This little boy, who looked like he barely weighed twenty pounds and was the epitome of innocents had been marked by death and come out relatively unscathed. Severus had James' son in his home, on his couch, sleeping. Would wonders never cease indeed?

He looked like a kitten all curled up on the chair.

The artist in Severus reared its head and he barely had time to grab a fresh canvas, his other set of paintbrushes and paint, before his mind was working out angles and shadows. He took a seat on the carpeted floor, facing the couch. He wondered about moving the couch just a slight bit to the left, but then decided that the light was not so bad and he would rather not risk waking the child again.

And then he painted.

He got lost in the strokes of his brush and the colours that mixed and mingled on the canvas in just the right way to catch the cherubic face or the small body. He paused only to add a blanket at some point. He charmed it red and with hints of gold. Gryffindor colours. He dimmed the light with his wand to enhance the shadows even more. He wanted to capture the sense of innocence that seemed to dance in the air above the sleeping child. It had been so long since Severus had found himself in the presence of one so pure. It almost hurt to try and capture it but he was determined to get it right.

When he was finish he sat looking at it for the longest time. It seemed perfect, but perhaps his perception would change the next day when the little hero was no longer lying so trustingly on his chair. Still, it was probably one of the best pieces that he had ever done and something told him that it was more the model than his skills that had brought about such an effect.

Somewhere near the painting of the dragon he had left the letters. They were what had driven him to walk in the rain and now that he remembered them he looked around the room for them again.

They had arrived by owl post that morning within minutes of each other and were each stamped with an official looking seal of course. Severus had stared at each for so long that the wax had probably begun to melt from the heat of his gaze. It wasn't that he hadn't received letters before but these two were from the highest orders. One from his mentor and the other from the government. Either of them could render him a destroyed man in one way or another.

He opened the first as quickly as he could without actually damaging the letter.

_Dear Severus Snape,_

_We are pleased to inform you that after a thorough investigation the Wizengamot has found you innocent on the count of treason... Your family estate and all personal property are hereby reinstated in your name and on proper identification will be returned to your possession... We hope to have your understanding that it was necessary to carry out this investigation and regret the years that have passed as we made our decision... We hope to have found you in good health..._

There were a few bits of mundane information in between but Severus could focus only on the fact that he had been granted his identity again. That they had the power to previously rid him of it for five years, burned angry and bitter in his throat as it had for all this time. He had no reason to be an artist anymore. His manor was now back into his possession, if he wished he could disappear even further from existence. But he still had a debt to pay and he owed the world for his mistakes.

He reached for the second letter.

_My dear Severus,_

_I hope this arrives to find you in good health. I am sure that by now you have received word of your acquittal from the Ministry of Magic. I was rather pleased to note that they have finally admitted what I have been adamantly trying to prove for all these years. Still it is better late than never and I am sure that while you will not find it in yourself to forgive the injustice of having them taken away, you are perhaps enormously pleased to be given your possessions again. If you allow it, together we can work to clear your name of the propaganda that has surrounded it for so long. _

_Perhaps a new identity is in order? There is a job that I have been saving for you these years and I wonder if now is the best time to offer you the position of Potions Professor of Hogwarts? Write me back as soon as possible to tell me of your decision. _

_And Severus, although you may dearly yearn to get as far away from England as possible now that you are allowed, and with your ties to France or the sheer brilliance of your artistic talent, I implore you not to run from your past. It is only in dealing with it by facing it that you will begin to heal. You have paid for your mistake of becoming a Death Eater many times over by becoming my spy and now that the Ministry recognizes this, there can only be a time of peace and healing ahead._

_Keep in touch as always._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore._

The letter fluttered to the ground. Severus hung his head. A thousand thoughts flickered through his mind and each as opposites of each other. He could go away to France and walk the streets of Paris selling his painting. He would be recognized since his work was already famous. No one there would truly know him as the Severus Snape who had been a Death Eater. His fluent French would hide the British accent and if the wizards there accepted him as one of their own then there would be no need to hide. He could teach at Beaubaxtons. Not Potions, although he loved the subject. Perhaps Defence against the Dark Arts. He would never be allowed to teach it at Hogwarts. He could see the world again and heal in his own time instead of becoming the embittered man that he was well on his way to becoming. For now, at twenty-five, he was young and free. He didn't have to stay in England.

He looked over at the couch where the most innocent creature to wander into his life now slept. One day he would meet this child again. The cherubic look would be gone but the lightning bolt would still be there and if he cared to admit it the image of James would look out at him from the emerald eyes to judge him as the father had judged Severus. One day, if he stayed he could repay the wizard debt to the son in place of the father.

He accio-ed a fresh strip of parchment and a quilt, before he could change his mind, then he began to write a reply to the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

_Dear Albus Dumbledore,_

_I would indeed be willing to accept the position of Potions Professor at Hogwarts if the offer still stands for my acceptance... I would however stipulate some conditions to this acceptance and hope that you will not find them too difficult to grant me the favour..._

When he was finished he went into his bedroom to open up a floo to the castle and quickly flooed the letter over, lest he changed his mind at the last second.

On returning to the room he returned to sitting on the floor facing the sleeping boy and he grabbed the painting he had done. After only a moment of hesitation he began to paint again. This time he added the rug on which he now sat but instead of drawing himself, he drew a green and silver boa constrictor raised to stare enchanted at the boy curled on the chair. When he was finished with that he dipped a finer tipped brush into black paint and with a flourish, gave the painting a title, before adding his signature and the date.

_Le Petit Chat…_

The name seemed fitting to describe this little kitten. The hour was approaching in which he would have to wake the child but for now he could probably afford to fall asleep also. It had been a while since he had slept peacefully, but for now he knew that rest would come easier. Especially with an angel in the room who was a hero after all. Never mind that he was five and the son of Severus' childhood enemy. Perhaps in time the healing process would be completed.

x-X-x


	2. Part 2of5

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Warning:** **_Slash. Alternate Universe. 'Out of Characterness'. HBP Spoilers._**

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **The Spy who became an Artist. The Child who needed a home. The Recluse who became a Teacher and the Boy who saved the world. Sometimes, age is just a number and love can save the world.

**Dedication:** To _Silverphoenix69_ who kept me sane while I wrote this, and to _Orionnaire_ for rescuing me and my French so many times.

**Author:** **_Spirit_**

**NB: There will be FIVE parts to this. Harry's age changes in each 'part'. To avoid confusion, keep this in mind as you read! **

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_**Le Petit Chat**_

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**Part II**

In all the years that Severus had lived, Diagon Alley had never changed.

Walking along the crowded pathways near the beginning of the next school term had never been his favourite pastime even as a child. The shops still held their enticing products, meant for the few students who had accompanied their parents, but Severus had lived alone for a long time so he only yearned to return to his home.

Besides, the temperature was exceptionally warm for so early in the summer. It seemed that all his plans to beat the school rush was for nothing. Although truth being told, he had worked at Hogwarts long enough now to realize that the students were so many that on shopping together or alone they made quite a crowd unto themselves.

In any event, he was soon rethinking the black hooded cloak that he was wearing.

He made a quick trip to the only store in the Alley that sold art supplies. He needed wizarding paint, but had been procrastinating in getting any until there was an actual backlog on orders. Luckily, being rude was his trademark and he never got anything less than multitudes of compliments once the painting got delivered. People tended to overlook undesirable traits in artists of his calibre. If all else failed, he usually directed them to his gallery whether they were wizards or muggles and hoped that they were smart enough to only look on pieces meant for them.

Potions supplies were next. These he never procrastinated on getting because he simply loved being in the store to take in all the obnoxious smells of the different ingredients. It was a private pleasure of his to walk along the aisles seeing what he could gather. Unfortunately, quite a lot of potions ingredients needed to be fresh and so there were never any of the interesting stuff to ogle. Not that Severus Snape would be caught ogling of course.

"Come on 'arry. Jus' one."

The boom of the half-giant's voice gave quite a few people a start, which was saying a lot since Diagon Alley was not the most quiet place in Britain. It was perhaps the whine in the words that caught Severus' attention more. Although, he couldn't say he didn't have his fair share of hearing the Care of Magical Creatures Professor try to cajole someone or something into action.

He made his way towards the giant since it was the next thing on his list. He had to stop short however and just as everyone else, stepped quickly to the side as something came careening down the street.

Two cartwheels, triple backhand flips, another cartwheel and an ending in a handstand.

The crowd burst into applause but as impressed as Severus was he refused to encourage the little cretin further. Upside down before him, green eyes blinked slowly, perhaps because his glasses were conveniently missing and his short sightedness left the world in a blur of shadows.

Hagrid came blundering down the path as the two stared at each other.

"Bonjour Professeur." The words came out a little stilted, but much better than any of the other French words that Hagrid had ever tried saying to him. "Sorry 'bout this. See, 'arry was just showin' me a few tricks 'r two he learned."

The boy had righted himself and was busy trying to pluck his glasses from his companion's huge fingers. As soon as Hagrid noticed he gave a good natured "oh" before handing Harry the round framed contraption.

"Harry, joo teh present the...uh...Professeur de Potions." Hagrid actually looked quite pleased with how much he had mangled the language. "Professor, this is Harry Potter. Yeh kno', that there Harry Potter. He's been learnin' French a bit."

Severus turned his attention to the boy before him.

Harry Potter at thirteen looked smaller than he had thought. It wasn't that the boy was a midget, but Severus knew that at his age he should probably be a couple inches taller than he actually stood. The Seventh Year students that he taught were all just an inch or two shorter than the tall Potions master, but Harry Potter with three years to go was only about chin level. For his sake Severus hoped a growth spurt was in order.

Otherwise, he looked skinny. Testament to the fact that in almost nine years, his relatives had probably treated him no better than at five. Assuming of course that once they realized that he was _the_ Harry Potter, they hadn't up the ante and presented him with the world. Perhaps the boy was anorexic. From the stunts that he had just entertained everyone with, Severus could only imagine the sort of training the boy probably thought he had to stick to.

And then he spoke.

"Bonjour, Professeur. Je suis heureux d'être ici avec vous." His words were soft but loud enough for Severus to determine the awkward mix that came with a new voice change. His accent was perfect, making Severus suspect that the boy spoke more than just a little French.

"Bonjour Harry," Severus responded immediately. A tiny part him wondered if Harry had any idea that once long ago they had been introduced. "Je suis Professeur Severus Snape."

Hagrid found the need to interrupt then. "He teaches Upper year Potions Harry, so he's to be yer teacher come September. But you never mind that fer now. This is who you'll be stayin' with fer the rest of the summer!"

"Really?" Harry gave Hagrid a look of intrigue. The news was obviously not what he had expected.

"If you object, we can always find you somewhere else to stay. I was however, of the impression that there was nowhere else and as your friends are away for the summer you cannot hope to spend the time with them," Severus decided to say in the coldest manner possible. His British accent cut the words down to bare essentials.

Severus had received a letter from Dumbledore two days prior, which explained that Potter would not be able to stay in the care of his relatives for the remainder of that summer. The reason as to why seemed to not have been important enough to say, and all the other wizard had wanted to know was if Potter could spend the time with his new Potions Professor.

Severus had thought about the request long and hard since his solitude was so important. He had seen Potter around Hogwarts enough to know his friends, and had worked behind the scenes with everyone on staff - that the boy had, all wrapped around his little finger - at trying to keep him from mischief. They had never officially met as student and teacher because Severus taught only the best of the upper year students and as for the lower years, Ravenclaw and Slytherin were the only ones he could tolerate. Everyone else went to the other professor of Potions.

He had reluctantly accepted the task of caring for Potter for the five weeks prior to the start of the new term, only to be standing before the child and realize that the offer might not have been acceptable.

Harry blushed light pink spots before turning to the professor.

"Je suis désolé Professeur Snape," he apologized. "C'est permis."

Hagrid looked between the two with a look of slight confusion before he cleared his throat to speak hesitantly in hopes that he had assumed correctly.

"So...uh...it's settle' then? You'll be stayin' with Profess'r Snape an' it's fine with you?"

"Yes, it's fine." Harry nodded, slipping into English again.

Hagrid beamed happily in having the issue settled without the fuss he had thought was to come. He promptly handed over the shrunken case that held all Harry's worldly possessions and the cage with Harry's Hedwig inside. The professor received them in silence.

"Well I'm off." Hagrid grabbed Harry and squeezed so hard that the boy looked like he would break. "I'll be seein' you at the staff meetin Professor."

"Unless you have other things that you wish to do, we should perhaps be off as well." Severus spoke in English once Hagrid had left their company. He wondered if he was correct in assuming that the boy had filled his foreign language quota for the day. He figured that the world would not end if he was pleasant just this once.

Harry didn't respond. Instead he stood staring for a period longer than politely possible before smiling slowly. The artist in Severus immediately had to argue that Harry had always been aesthetically pleasing.

"You look the same," Harry said in the melody of French. "Older of course, but you look just the way I remembered. Well except for the hooded cloak. I've heard lots of speculations that you're a vampire but that's not the way I remember you so it's nice to be right about this."

Severus sighed in relief as he too spoke in French. If he could help it, that would be all they would be speaking for the summer, but since the boy was to be his guest he made mental note to abide by whatever language the boy could manage.

"You remember me?" he asked. "How could you? You were only a child. From my experience children have memories like a sieve so I hardly think it's probable."

Harry chuckled. "You were a bit nicer then. Confusing, but nice."

"I assure you that I was not." Severus protested. He turned about and began to walk away hoping that Harry had the sense to follow. "Potter, I have never been nice in my entire life and if you did indeed remember our encounter you would have remembered that much."

They made their way over to the Leaky Cauldron and joined the line for Floo travelling. When it was their turn Severus handed Harry the canister.

"Have you ever travelled by floo before?" he asked with a narrowing of his eyes to show that the boy dare not say no.

Harry blushed. "Funny you should ask that. It's how I ended up here two years ago, although I wasn't planning on seeing quite as much of Knockturn Alley as I did."

It took them two hours longer than apparition to arrive at Peniwynth Manor and by the time they did both wizards was of the agreement that a better means of travelling was in order. Trying to mix wizarding and muggle transportation to find a place that was semi-unplottable was probably not the best solution, but it was the only one that Severus had initially found acceptable.

"Wow!" Harry exclaimed in his native language. "This is huge!"

Before Severus could protest, he had discarded his cloak and shoes. Then, he went bouncing down the entrance hall in a series of flips and cartwheel. And just for the fun of it he returned to the front door in the same way, managing to build himself up to no-hand twist flips that made him look as if he had springs on the sole of his feet.

"C'est magnifique! I could spend all day in here. Je ne veux pas manger ou dormir...as long as I can stay right here," he chattered, switching between languages with lightning speed.

Severus took one look at his excited face and raised an eyebrow. "Now that doesn't seem very wise, n'est-ce pas? I will not have you living only on adrenaline while you are with me and the hall was not made to be played in."

Harry looked crestfallen. He gave the hall a wistful look before turning his attention on locating his cloak and shoes again. Severus looked at him wondering what sort of teenager he was to still find pleasure in a huge room and his own capabilities.

With a flick of his wand he had the cloak and shoes levitating near him, before he approached the grand staircase to the side. The banisters were made from gold twisted and carved to look like snakes while the steps were pure marble. To light the hall, high above, the candle chandeliers had hanging diamonds. Severus couldn't believe that Harry had no interest in the finery around him. Everyone else who entered spent hours staring in envy, as they seemed to plot a way of stealing some jewellery or another from the place.

It was strange that one so young could appreciate simplicity.

"If you break anything I will repair it with the bones of your fingers," Severus threatened. His voice carried impressively in the wide hall as if he had years of practicing how to get it to echo in just the right way. "I am sure that you would not wish to be reminded of how painful re-growing bones are."

Harry stood in stunned silence for a second before shouting, "Thank you!"

Severus made a point of ignoring both the little miscreant and the tightness in his stomach at the sounds of glee when Harry took off down the hall again.

o

It didn't take long for Harry to attempt to hang off the columns and crossbeams that were mostly for decorational purposes.

The first time Severus realized what he was doing, the older wizard was surprised at the grip of fear that coursed though his body. He wasn't able to do much more than stare in shock as his brain tried to figure out how exactly the little cat had scaled the smooth towers of black marble. The balancing act that he was immediately treated to had him clutching his wand.

"Get down here right now!" he snarled. "Should you fall I will skin you alive, provided that you don't die on impact."

"I won't fall!" Harry shouted back. "I've been taking gymnastics since I was seven and I'm perfectly capable of casting a levitation spell on myself. I play Quidditch remember? If I haven't died from falling off my broom yet, I won't die from this. I like being this high. The view is amazing."

To prove his point, he did a series of back flips along one of the hexagonal shaped beams that framed the high magical ceiling. The night sky's darkness had nothing on the colour of Severus' angry gaze as he flicked his wand and wrenched Harry off the beams to stand before him on solid ground.

"You have been here for two days and already you are trying to meet an untimely death," he chided in rapid French. "Do not give me reason to discipline you Potter."

Harry bowed his head to stare at his bare feet. He fiddled with the hem of his black t-shirt. A habit he obviously hadn't lost over the years. The semi-tight and worn out jeans that he wore just made him look that much smaller as he stood looking so contrite.

"Je suis désolé professeur," he apologized in French but quickly switched. "But I really wasn't going to fall and even if I did I know how to stay safe. Please. I'm really sorry but I promise that I won't fall."

Severus stared at him very hard. He wondered if it wasn't best to cast a protection spell on the boy but that would be useless if nothing was to attack him but the ground.

"Go to your room. I will inform you of when you may come down."

On arriving two days before, Harry had been given a quick tour of some necessary sections of the house, before being shown to his room. Which really meant that he only knew as much as how to get to the dining room, the entrance hall, Severus' room door and his own room. He had spent most of those two days in the entrance hall causing an uproar with the house-elves who had never had to dodge a tumbling, bouncing obstruction in all their years serving the Snapes at Peniwynth.

As soon as Harry had disappeared up the grand staircase, Severus called one of those very same house-elves and left orders for her to cast imperceptible buffer spells on the ground of the entire house. It was obvious that the boy liked his dangerous hobby and since Severus couldn't talk him out of it he would have rather not be faced with the task of informing Dumbledore that the great Harry Potter had fallen off his manor's sky beams and broken his royal neck.

And so the matter was settled.

Which was why a day later he was not the least bit as shocked as his model to see the slim figure hanging upside down near the chandelier in his art room.

"Pay attention you imbecile! I don't have the time to repaint this. You had better fix yourself into the exact pose I set you in or you'll be made to regret ever sitting in that chair," he snapped when he realized that the girl had all but sprung out of the seat in shock.

"There's someone up there!" she exclaimed.

Severus looked up to scowl at Harry's sudden presence but made no move to send him away.

"Yes," he drawled. "One would think you've never seen another human being before. Unfortunate really since your mother finds the need to constantly bore me with her wish to marry you off like some common chattel, Miss Parkinson."

"But he's hanging from the roof!" She pouted.

"It's the ceiling beam you idiot. Don't exaggerate," Severus snapped again. "Besides, what are your eyes doing so far up? You should be staring at that lamp near the window. Sit properly. I don't have all day!"

She bit her lower lip in shame, which just cost her an even darker look from the artist. She wiggled back into the pose, hoping that she had it perfect again, before having to move again to fix the bodice of her eighteenth century gown that had manage to become twisted somehow.

Harry tested the sturdiness of the chandelier and, hoping desperately that it carried his weight, he used it to lower himself until he could jump back to the ground. He landed in a crouching position at her feet.

"Potter!" she shouted in her fright. "What are you doing here?"

"Hanging out Pansy. What did it look like to you?"

He ignored her otherwise, in favour of walking over to stand behind Severus. He looked around the room, taking note of the paintings that were propped up along the wall to dry and hung out of reach. He also was quick to notice that apart from the small chair that Pansy was once again wiggling on and the stool that Severus was working from, the only other furniture were corner tables. There were no other colours in the place other than black or cream and there was certainly nothing as frivolous as flowers to decorate the room.

"It looks different," Harry said, turning back to Severus.

Preoccupied with painting again, Severus answered distantly. "That's because it is different. For someone who brags about having a good memory, you would think to realize that this is an entirely different house. Surely the network of crossbeams that you have become so attached to was a huge tip."

Harry grinned. "Wasn't interested in crossbeams then or how big the house was."

"And yet you thought it pretty, if I recall," Severus responded.

"It was, but here is just as good too."

Harry caught Pansy's eyes glaring at him again. He supposed that by the time she made it back to her home the entire Slytherin student body would be informed on what their Head of House was harbouring in his home. Well he didn't have to explain anything to her and he doubted that the professor would feel the need to either.

He carefully lowered himself into a handstand before lifting one hand away. He was in the process of slowly lowering himself onto his head when Severus declared with a snort that he was finish.

Pansy rose from her seat and with as much airs as possible, stalked over to see what the painting looked like. In the pretence of getting closer, she gave Harry a sly shove that send him crashing into the ground.

"This is so good," she purred as Severus added his signature double 'S' with interlocked lower halves.

"You're opinion means so much to me," Severus responded dryly. "However, thank you very much for your assistance today."

"Of course Professor. I really like being a model for you."

Severus removed the painting from the stand before walking over to the side of the room to prop it on one of the corner tables.

"Need I remind you yet again that while we are here I am no longer your Potions Professor?" he asked her with obvious irritation in his voice.

She coloured in embarrassment before responding softly, "Sorry sir."

He ushered her out of the room and down the two hidden staircases then out on the grand staircase and into the entrance hall before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek in thanks again. He had her out the door seconds after that before closing the double doors resoundingly.

He looked up at the network of cross beams to see Harry balancing in a handstand on one of them.

"You kissed her," Harry noted softly.

Severus sighed. "Her parents and I attended Hogwarts together. I was in the vicinity of St. Mungo's for her birth, I will be there should her mother succeed in cajoling someone of wealth to marry her and I expected that should I outlive her, I shall have to pay my respects at her funeral. Now what exactly do you find so odd about a Pureblood Slytherin bestowing a kiss to the daughter of another?"

"Had nothing to do with status," Harry pointed out as he wrapped his arms and legs around one of the slimmer beams then releasing his hand grip to hang upside down in the air. "I just can't believe you'd want to put your face near hers. She has the worst damn reputation in Hogwarts."

"Nothing compared to mine Potter."

By the time Harry made it back to the art room, Severus had another canvas ready. He began to wash his brushes the muggle way since he had learned long ago that magic and bristles equalled the equivalent of a feather duster.

"You use your Slytherins as models?"

Severus glanced away from his task to note in surprise that Harry was walking into the room via the floor instead of swinging haphazardly along his ceiling. His hair was an absolute mess, which signified that hanging upside down all day with the unruly mop that the boy had dubbed as hair, was perhaps not the best thing. It looked ruffled now, as if someone had given it a rough tussle or as if Potter had spent hours running his fingers through it.

Yet his eyes sparkled with hidden mirth and his lips was an unnatural cherry shade, perhaps from all the blood rushing in the wrong direction.

"Sit," Severus commanded without a second thought to what he was about to do. "And in response to your question, I only use students who are aware that their professor and the artist are the same. Unlike you I see no need to be flocked at every opportunity."

Harry sat...indian-style on the floor. Severus couldn't have said that he was surprised.

"May I paint you?" he asked instead.

Harry gave him a confused look before raising his eyebrow in question. "Good lord! You don't have to ask Monsieur artiste. Anything I can do to help is a given. I mean I'm staying at your house. Who am I to refuse?"

"You may refuse Mr. Potter because as you get older your privacy becomes your most valuable possession and should someone strip you of this they will leave you feeling nothing but bare."

Harry took a deep breath before timidly nodding his consent.

Severus set to work mixing the first colour, glancing back and forth to see if he could capture Harry's now slightly darker shade.

"Your birthday is soon?"

Harry nodded again before asking, "Wait, how do you know that?"

"The whole world knows everything about you down to the flavour of your favourite ice cream. What makes you think that should I have not known the date and bloody hour of your birth that I would not have gotten owls by the thousands informing me? In fact Dumbledore would have been so put off that I would probably have to find employment elsewhere out of shame." Severus sneered.

"Do you like teaching Professor?" Harry smiled again, as Severus began to paint. "I hear the Ravenclaws talk about you at dinner and you don't sound very pleasant."

"I detest it!" Severus snapped.

"Anything else you detest or does that just about cover it?"

Severus looked over at him with flashing black eyes. "Gryffindors and their misguided bravery that manifests itself in acts of mischief ever so often to the amusement of my colleagues. Rule breakers who get away with murder under the nose of those who should know well enough to dole out punishment. And your parentage, because James Potter was the worse Gryffindor of all and he as good as set the bar for the type of behaviour that you are rumoured to entertain yourself and your housemates with."

"Right. Got it," Harry muttered softly, dropping his head so that he could stare at the ground. "You bloody hate me."

"Don't assume anything Potter," Severus retorted. "Sit up!"

Harry froze in the position that he was sitting in, afraid to move in case those dark eyes were still glaring at him but knowing that he had changed his pose and so the artist was probably more than justified to yell.

Severus stalked around the canvas to kneel before the thirteen year old. He ran his fingers through the untamed black hair before sliding his hand to cup the already sharp jaw line. With a little pressure he raised Harry's face to tilt upwards towards him. Green eyes gazed at him sadly behind clear glass lens and Severus was fairly certain that the little pink tongue behind those perfect lips was being bitten in earnest.

"Now is the time to prove that my impressions of you are incorrect," he said in a voice that was a little more edgy than he intended. "You have been given an opportunity that many wish they had before they entered my Potions classroom for the first time. Show me that you are not another incompetent idiot who appreciates nothing but the favours of their classmates instead of grasping the fine art of potions making and perhaps I will excuse your uncanny resemblance to your father so far."

After that they sat in silence while Severus painted.

Harry's sad expression had remained and so had the slight hanging of his head as he stared at the floor, lost in thought. Severus simply painted him that way instead of trying to correct the position yet again. Midway into the piece Harry changed his position further by tucking his legs up to chest height and wrapping his arms around them, for comfort. No amount of exasperated sighs or growls of anger could snap the boy back into reality long enough for him to assume the correct position. So, Severus added that change also.

He changed the background of the room so that Harry alone sat in the centre of a semi-circular room as if he was trapped in a tower with only a single window and the sky outside to keep him company.

By the time he declared that he was finish Harry was already by his side gazing in awe.

"It's really very good," Harry said softly.

"I have had practice painting you before I must confess, although not quite like this," Severus returned just as softly. "You make a very good model."

Harry's gaze followed the lines of his replica noticing the change of clothes that Severus had implemented. He felt as if he could almost see the wind ruffle the cream peasant shirt and the ragged black pants legs that the figure wore.

"I'm sorry I was so pensive."

Severus gazed up at him although Harry's eyes were still glued to the painting. Up close he could see that Harry wasn't quite as young looking as he had assumed before. Perhaps the knowledge that in a few more days the boy would be fourteen and perhaps the hours of hanging upside down or spending years bouncing around the place took more upper body strength that necessary. In any event he was right in thinking that Potter made one of the best models.

"Variety helps in art," Severus told him. "I prefer to paint natural expressions than something as false as a smile. Unless they are done with one of those muggle cameras, it makes no sense having someone grinning like a complete idiot for the hour or two that it takes to paint them. Or worse, the five days for wizard paintings. I don't mind pensive as long as you keep your expression constant."

Harry grinned. "What will you do with this?"

"Hang it into the room that you are currently residing in. Perhaps on the opposite wall of the painting that currently hangs there."

"'The Little Cat'?" Harry's eyes creased in concentration as he tried to remember the painting that he had not realized that Severus might have drawn.

"Yes that one." Severus gave him a look of intrigue. "Do you recognize it?"

"Well I think it's amazing."

"Aside from that Potter."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Should I recognize it?"

"Perhaps not." Severus gathered his brushes and began to wash them again in a bucket of water. He levitated the painting to hang on wall to dry before walking over to the door. "Should you figure it out, or not, dinner will be served in the Green Room tonight. Ask the house-elves to direct you to it."

He left Harry in the room, looking quite baffled.

o

Peniwynth Manor at night was usually a very quiet place.

Long ago, Severus had given up on the hope that once darkness descended, sleep would come to him. In general it didn't and unless he lost patience and took a sleeping potion he could stay awake all hours of the night. A good book or time spent sketching usually passed the time well enough. It was intriguing to him the sorts of ideas that assaulted him at nights.

"Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to me. Happy Birthday to Harry. Happy Birthday to me..."

In the silence of the house the words were soft and almost muffled as testiment to the fact that the song was a private celebration. It was a sad celebration. There were no sound of happy laughter or claps of pleasure to count down the years. Instead the quietly drifting words sounded almost mournful.

Severus endured all he could before he went in search of the boy.

By the time he got to the door Harry was winding down the ending to the song. Severus knocked twice to indicate that he was about to enter the room. The door was unlocked, which he did not expect, but when it seemed that after a pause, Harry was not going to respond, he slowly opened the door to look inside the room.

Harry was sitting on the white carpet floor with the smallest cake that Severus had ever seen before him. A single candle burned brightly on the top of it. The glow blended with the soft glow of the other candles that Harry had allowed to stay lit. They floated around the room, four in all, and were the only indication of festivity.

Across the room, the wizards' eyes met and seemed to fuse.

Harry's eyes... his captivating emerald eyes... seemed to glow in the candle light. There was a sense of peace in their depth. Pure. Beautiful. Ancient.

Severus wondered at the gaze. He wondered how this boy, fourteen now, could have been touched so deeply that his soul glowed. It was etheral and filled with a pain only one who had suffered and survived would have. Severus himself had not acquired that particular look until he was eighteen and even then he had been broken for a long time as he healed.

In his confusion Severus' eyes frantically looked over the figure that sat staring so unnervingly at him... but it was only a child. Not an illusion or a myth. Just Harry being himself. Because this child had been through enough in his fourteen years to gain the respect of a world but beyond that there was no glory. He was not 'too mature' or 'so different' from his peers. Still a boy, but a special boy.

"Would you like to share my cake?" The moment was broken with the very soft words.

Severus raised an eyebrow as he looked at it again, before crossing the room to sit opposite the birthday boy. Harry chuckled, less mournfully than his previous singing.

"Sorry, I usually celebrate my birthday alone you see." He blushed. "This should do though right? I can't imagine you stuffing your face with cake and I have to leave space for when Hagrid's own arrive so a bigger cake would just be for show."

After blowing it out, he stared at the candle for an extended time however and soon the look of sadness was back in his eyes.

"It's my birthday again," he said softly. "I wonder what fate has planned for me this year."

Instinctively Severus reached out to him, not understanding why but knowing that reassurance in any form would probably be appreciated. As soon as his fingers came in contact with the warm cheek, he realized that it was not enough so slowly he lightly carved imaginary circles with his thumb.

"Tell me how you speak French so well." The words came out soft also as the conversations was steered into another direction. "I knew your parents and so I very much doubt that they left instructions for you to be tutored in it before they died."

Harry leaned into the caress, like a kitten on the verge of purring, but his expression was distant as he pulled the reason from his memories.

"When I was young I dreamt of running away. I thought of going to Italy or Belgium or Germany. Anywhere was better than living with my aunt and uncle. God, I wanted to escape so badly. I researched all three languages and decided to study them one by one. I started with French but I haven't actually made it to the others yet. I'll get to them one day, but French... I learned it and now I can't let go long enough." He ducked his head shyly.

Severus moved his hand away and allowed Harry to cut the cake with the plastic dinner knife that he had managed to aquire somewhere. He waited before he spoke, knowing that his voice would be cold with anger.

It was. "Why did you want to escape? Did they hurt you?"

Harry shook his head slowly, staring at the mutilated cake now, before reaching for it. "Not in the way you think."

"And what way is that?"

"They didn't hit me. They just... I wasn't a part of their family. They wanted me to remember that."

Severus' eyes narrowed and the scowl on his face darkened. "There is more to abuse than you think Potter. Words cut far deeper than a single hit and there are other touches that would rob you of your innocence. Be grateful that they are muggles and do not have the magical ability to plunder your mind, but don't underestimate the pain that they caused you. Nothing hurts more than to disappoint the ones who should care for you."

Harry turned his head away from the burning charcoals of Severus' gaze.

"The crossbeams," he said suddenly. His voice gave away the frantic desire to change the subject. "The house wasn't built with them, was it?"

Severus didn't immediately respond. Harry turned pleading green eyes to him again. In their depth Severus could read the pleas that spilled like a silent mantra into the space between them. The silence became almost uncomfortable.

"They were built by my great great grand aunt." The words rearranged the silence, purifying it. "They called her 'The Spider'. She was indeed just like a black widow. She rarely dressed in any other color and was married twelve times. Four were forced upon her, three were favors, three as challenges to the family, one was her sister's fiance and the final one was the man whose heir she bore. Legend has it that she was cursed. All her husbands, save the last, died on their wedding night of questionable causes. While she lived, the drapes were tattered black cloths and the Muggles around for miles swore that they heard cackles and cries each night. She was a witch and for once they were true in dubbing her as that. I am told that I inherited her gift for potions."

"And now we know what family Muggles get their inspiration from when they think of witches," Harry said with a grin.

"Perhaps," Severus conceded softly.

Harry sighed again when their conversation was once more blanketed by silence. He yawned tiredly, catching himself just in time to realize that it was almost one in the morning and it was definitely better if he retired for the night.

"I should probably just go to sleep now," he said reluctantly. "Hedwig will know to make sure that the other owls get in here just fine."

Severus rose from the floor, dusting his spotless robes off, before whipping out his wand and muttering a few cleansing spells. All evidence of their little celebration disappeared from the silver carpet while Harry languidly rose also.

Harry stretched and yawned again. Severus indicated that he should get to bed by pointing his wand in the vicinity of the furniture. Harry complied easily enough that Severus soon realized that he should leave the boy to sleep in peace.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep?"

Severus froze in his charge towards the door. He turned to look at Harry buried beneath Slytherin green silk sheets to see if from that distance he could determine Harry's reason for such a strange request. Harry just looked drowsy. His emerald eyes were clouded with sleep as he peered at Severus through half closed lids.

Severus mentally sighed before he conjured up a chair which he placed at the side of Harry's bed. He sat staring at Harry, wondering what to do next, but Harry was too far along in sleep to care what the man beside him was doing.

"G'night," he muttered before snuggling deeper into the covers, turning his head away.

It was a few minutes later that Severus could respond and by then Harry was lost in the world of sleep. His unruly black hair sprinkled the pillow and a lock of it was curved across the lightly tanned skin, hiding the lightning scar from sight.

Severus reached out for that lock.

He held the clump of hair between his fingers, marvelling at the soft texture. In the candlelight the color was a darker shade of black than Severus knew it was. He ran his thumb along the length. The strands were fanned flat along the plain of his index finger as he stroked. Silky smooth. If the boy's hair got any longer then he would need a severing charm, he realized.

Because of the proximity, Harry's eye lash tickled the back of Severus' hand. Severus abandoned the lock of hair for those other strands of black. They too were smooth. Or perhaps it was the silky skin beneath that which drew Severus' finger tips.

He followed the bump of Harry's cheekbone down to the slightly red cheeks where he gave into the impulse to mark imaginary erratic lines slowly up and down with his thumb as he marvelled at the softness yet again.

Finally, pulling his hand away, Severus spent another few minutes gazing at the captivating young wizard. He looked so innocent while he slept. Whatever haunted Harry in the waking hours were not haunting him in Peniwynth Manor and for that Severus was grateful. As a silent stipulation, Severus knew that Albus had meant for Potter to find peace during his time at the secluded manor.

"Leave him be," Severus whispered into the still room to the demons and angels that vied so tirelessly for Harry's soul. "He is still a child. He is not ready for the fate you have planned for him."

x-X-x


	3. Part 3of5

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Warning:** **_Slash. Alternate Universe. 'Out of Characterness'. HBP Spoilers._**

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **The Spy who became an Artist. The Child who needed a home. The Recluse who became a Teacher and the Boy who saved the world. Sometimes, age is just a number and love can save the world.

**Dedication:** To _Silverphoenix69_ who kept me sane while I wrote this, and to _Orionnaire_ for rescuing me and my French so many times.

**Author:** **_Spirit_**

**NB: There will be FIVE parts to this. Harry's age changes in each 'part'. To avoid confusion, keep this in mind as you read! **

o

o

_**Le Petit Chat**_

o

**Part III**

The Harry Potter who stepped out of the fireplace at sixteen was nothing like the boy of fourteen who had left years before.

The child was nearly gone; sacrificed to the horrors of a looming war and far too many deaths. With that child also went whatever protective instinct Severus ever had for Potter. Perhaps the special moment was the hour that Harry had walked out of Peniwynth and had become just another Potions student to Professor Snape. There was nothing guardian-like about the way that Severus viewed the new Potter.

Harry exhuded confidence just by standing near the fireplace and yet there was no trace of arrogance. It was probably the touch of wisdom and pain that was always hidden in the depths of those green eyes that forced Severus to truly see Potter in another light.

Sixteen and already jaded. Severus understood that only too well.

"Bonjour Professeur. Je suis désolé." Harry's voice had changed in the two years since he had left Peniwynth Manor. It certainly fit his new maturity.

"Pourquoi?" Severus raised an eyebrow as the only sign of his noting Potter's presence in one of the many sitting rooms in the house.

It earned him a smile from Harry. Something which fortunately had not changed in sincerity.

"I was hoping that you wouldn't scold me for the late hour or something." The tone was obviously teasing. "It is afterall easier to gain forgiveness than permission."

Severus rose from the chair that he was occupying, careful not to spill from the glass of scotch that he was holding. He approached Harry, who was still smiling, and gave him a full once-over look before he temporarily abandoned the glass on the mantlepiece that was to the side of the fireplace's arch.

"You are here for the art show I take it?" Harry nodded to that. "Then you are not late Potter. In fact your are a good twelve hours too early."

Harry shrugged. "I wanted to see you. I wanted to see the place. I've had to close my eyes to remember what it looked like for so long that I figured that it's best to just bloody come. The art show is a good excuse."

"You could have come whenever you wanted in the past two years." Severus tried not to let his disappointment show but it was hard to completely hide it. "The floo was always open to admit you."

"Maybe, but it wasn't the same after fourth year."

Severus' eyes hardened, not so much at the words but at the implications hidden behind them. His anger was not so apparent though even as he reached for his glass of scotch again and took a sip.

"I see that you too believe the rumors then."

"That you're working for Voldemort again?" The steel in Harry's tone did not match the nonchalance of the shrug that he gave. "Let's just say that I like to think I know things about you that others overlook and in my opinion you always could swing either way. You're not Head of Slytherin for nothing, Sir. I'm not one to forget that."

"Did you come back just to point out that what little trust you had in me is now lost?" Severus turned away from the twin glass of green crystals that were trying to cut past his defences.

"No, of course not." Well at least to Severus, Harry sounded sad if not contrite. "I told you. I came to see Peniwynth."

Severus made a wide hand gesture to indicate the room they were standing in and whatever lay beyond the open doorway.

"Then Peniwynth awaits you as it awaits the soul of every wizard who has ever graced it with his or her presence." He turned away. "But if you'll excuse me Potter, I find that I suddenly lack the grace to welcome you too long into my presence anymore."

Harry stopped the tearing of charcoal eyes from his own gaze, with an outstretched hand that cupped Snape's face. He gently turned Severus' attention back unto himself.

"Sometimes I think that... nous n'avons plus rien à dire... to each other," Harry said sadly. "Is there really nothing left to say between us?"

Severus levelled Harry with a look that was very close to a glare, yet he only abandoned Harry to return to where he had been previously sitting. He took so many sips from his glass and ignored Harry for so long that the younger wizard considered just walking out.

But when Snape spoke his responce was just as quiet. "Peut-être... we are... simplement peur."

"Afraid?" Harry asked. "What is there in our words to be afraid of?"

"I believe you said you came here to reacquaint yourself with the manor," Severus pointed out after a brief pause, effectively ignoring Harry's questions. "The skybeams await you Potter or are you far too immersed in your ideas of my defection to the dark side that you would rather not risk me cursing you so far up from the ground?"

Harry's turned a light shade of red at the jibe. He had not practised his gymnastic skills since the last time he had been at Peniwynth because nowhere else intrigued him so much as the manor. It had nothing to do with his lack of trust in Snape and at Peniwynth he would have preferred not to dredge up whatever misgivings laid between him and Snape in the outside world. He considered Peniwynth as a haven. Except it seemed that as soon as he had stepped out of the fireplace he had done nothing but try to hurt the other wizard by throwing around his suspicions of Snape's changing allegiance.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Point taken."

Severus showed his forgiveness with a brief nod. "As you might have realized the Manor has not changed in three hundred years so it is hardly likely that it has changed in two years. I am sure that should you choose to wait, it will still be here for you to reacquiant yourself."

"What should I do in the meantime then?"

Harry took the required steps to stand before the figure in black. Even sitting, Snape exuded confidence and control. It seemed only natural that Harry sit beside him on the chair but that seemed presumptious. So he stood, shifting uncomfortably during the pause that inevitably followed.

Snape rose from the chair, walked over to approach the fireplace where he again abandoned his now empty glass. He turned to give Harry a look devoid of all other emotion except interest as he spoke again.

"Let me paint you."

Harry smiled, instantly. Inside a swirl of emotions attacked until he was at a loss in figuring out why such simple words meant so much. But then, he already knew. To have Severus paint him was always an honor and secretly he felt as if he was somehow always waiting for the wizard to ask. There was no other answer to give but yes.

"Bien sûr," he responded immediately. "As always, Monsieur artiste, you don't even have to ask."

Severus raised an eybrow. "Would you be so gracious if what I wish to paint is not as innocent as a sleeping child or a lost boy? You radiate sorrow and I feel drawn to paint something that can express the darkness I sense in you."

"Darkness?" Harry looked more confused than offended. "You think I have evil in me?"

Severus shook his head. His eyes seemed to pull Harry's gaze to him and for some reason a shiver ran down Harry's spine at the hollowness of such pools of black. There was no doubt that Severus had darkness in him but Harry was afraid to believe that such a look could one day be reflected from his own eyes.

"Ce n'est pas la même chose," Severus pointed out quietly, before repeating the words in English. "It is not the same thing."

They retreated upstairs to the art room via the grande hallway and the staircase. It felt somewhat strange to Severus to have Harry trudging along behind him with soft footsteps. A part of him expected that if he should look up at the skybeams, the skinny little fourteen year old would be doing backhand flips and risking life and limb in the process. That the child had changed into the enigma that stood near him, was a little awkward for Severus to admit to himself.

"I feel strange." Standing in the middle of the room in the one spot that intentionally was not occupied, Harry broke the silence softly with his emerald eyes trained on a point on the light brown rug, as if enthralled.

"Do explain."

Severus reached for his easel and repositioned it so that he was directly facing Harry. He grabbed a couple of his favorite brushes and made sure that he had enough paint on hand. He could already feel the mental itch that prodded him to get to work on appeasing the desire to become emersed in his art.

Harry took a deep breath, sighed, then raised his head so that the confusion on his face was unmisteakable.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "I feel like I've been waiting to come back here and see this room, which I love so much, and for the familiar scent of paint drying and just the surreality I always feel standing and watching you. I've been waiting and waiting to come back and now, I'm standing here and I still feel the longing. I still really miss this place. I feel like a part of me is still waiting to come back. But for some reason, it won't."

Severus looked at him, meeting his eyes with as close a look of understanding as he would ever really allow, but when he spoke it was off-topic.

"Kneel. Try to be comfortable, you'll be in that position for a while."

Harry immediately complied without question or fear. Even when Snape pulled out his wand and aimed it at him, Harry couldn't say that he was afraid. In his mind Professor Snape and the Artist were entirely separate entities. He had his suspicions for the first, but the second evoked feelings within him that was very close to admiration.

"May I remove your shirt?"

The shirt was magically removed with a nod from Harry, who immediately wrapped his arms around himself. Since Severus could not have him doing this, he paused to give Harry a personal warming spell, then proceeded to explain exactly what he had in mind. Harry's expression got more and more surprised, but he did not object to any of it so Severus got to work.

When he was finished, he stepped back over to his easel where he could inspect the live tableau that he had created.

Harry was kneeling, half naked and also half blind because Severus had taken away his glasses. His hands were raised above his head where they were handcuffed together with a thick chain running from the manacles to the roof. Before him, having fallen asleep as it soon as it was conjured, was a lion. Severus had briefly considered having a white tiger instead but considering that the little cat was a Gryffindor, Severus decided to bow to tradition and have the lion instead. Which meant that the snake he conjured was green with silver marking to show that it was to represent the symbol of Slytherin. The snake was twisted downwards, around the chain. It's flickering tongue brushed Harry's fingertips ever so often. For some reason however the snake was not hissing which disappointingly meant that Harry was not given an opportunity to speak Parsletongue. Harry had his head hung, seeming more interested in the golden brown of the lion's coat.

Satisfied, Severus retreated behind his easel again and with a stroke of his brush, became submerged in the vision before him. Dark hair hung to cover the scar on Harry's forehead just enough that Severus did not have to worry about anyone recognizing his model. He had never painted something on such a scale as he was doing with Harry. To encompass the boy, the lion and the snake he lengthened his canvas, faded the lights even more, wanting to capture the natural shadows created. He revelled in the silence of just his brush scratching on the canvas.

Halfway through the painting, Harry began to cry.

Severus recognized it for what it was as a silent expelling of exhaustion and fear. He continued to paint, showing no signs of being affected. It seemed almost too intimate to add the tears to the painting, but he knew that this breaking of the child, was what would make the piece as perfect as the two other times he had painted Harry. Such emotions were so raw and so real that only with Harry, would he be able to capture such range. And only his little cat would bleed in transparent, purified blood.

"Say goodbye to your friends."

Adding the finishing touch to the painting, Severus didn't allow Harry even the time to whisper a farewell before he took out his wand. With a silent wave the animals he had conjured, disappeared as if they never existed. The flowing of tears had only just stopped but Harry still kept his head hung as he stared into whatever abyss his mind created for him. Severus yanked on the chains that bound Harry and watched as the magical restraint pulled until Harry was standing before him.

"The Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. The child who killed himself to become a man." Severus reached out to run his fingers over the wetness of the still fresh tears. The streaks smeared upon the smoothness of Harry's cheeks. "Your tears won't help you now little Gryffindor. Whatever pain you think you are in now, will only get worse. Nothing can save you."

It was selfish.

Severus recognized this as soon as the desire washed over him but as a Slytherin he couldn't think to spare much thought to reason. Green eyes gazed up at him, so alike and so different than the ones he carried in his mind. While he had never ever before considered Harry as remotely desirable, the urge...no ache...inside now threatened to overwhelm him. It was selfish, but in that moment Severus wanted to be the one to capture that last glimmer of Harry's innocence. He would steal the last whispers of that child that Harry had so desperately sacrificed.

Severus tilted Harry's head upwards, and without allowing a moment of protest from the ruby lips, he leaned to capture Harry's mouth with his own.

It was a kiss of desecration. Of one man taking something that should not be his, but Harry gave freely. Until, the fight of tongue and teeth and lips became a dance of moans and gasps and they were two men who sought forgiveness and retribution from each other, without the words or the compromise of their pride and beliefs.

Severus withdrew first, because it was he who had initiated contact.

He couldn't help the way his fingers glided along Harry's cheek or the way his thumb caressed the slightly swollen lips. He fought against the light in the emerald eyes that saw through him and into his secrets and of the man he was going to become and of the things he was soon to sacrifice. Severus had never once felt as naked to anyone or any student in quite the way that he felt as he lost himself in Harry's eyes. It took a great effort for him to pull away, before he drowned forever in their depth.

"You killed the child and it is the spirit of that child who misses Peniwynth," Severus whispered in the space between them. "Don't mourn for him. Do not mourn for what you've lost because in its own way you have found a lot. No one can save you but yourself, Harry."

Severus stepped away from the hardening in the green gaze. In many ways, the wizard before him was just a little more than a stranger then. The child was dead and Severus had watched him die.

He released the bonds that held Harry and gestured for the younger wizard to leave him to his solitude. He listened to the sounds of Harry's footsteps leading away from the room but he didn't once turn around to watch the retreat.

Instead he spent a long time staring at the space where Harry had stood.

The painting of his little cat was drying slowly where he left it, but another painting worked its way into Severus' consciousness and refused to give him rest until he sought it out from where he had charmed it invisible in the room. Then he spent a long time looking at it.

The Albus Dumbledore in the painting refused to move even though it was a wizard's painting.

Severus had been shocked when the painting was completed and yet had remained immobile, but Dumbledore had given Snape a wink and a smile and told him not to worry, it looked great. Severus just figured that the wizard had been casting a wordless, wandless spell as he sat through the five days it took to paint. Or perhaps Dumbledore was too powerful or too special to have a death portrait move while he was still living. Because it was a death portrait in every way. Severus above all others knew this for a fact.

It was why he had been sipping scotch and lost in thought when Harry had arrived. It was why he again conjured up another glass and accio-ed his bottle of liquer. He still had much to think about and a plan to conceive. He had lived in denial for weeks but it was time to be prepared.

Resting the painting gently aside again, Severus walked over to his easel and stared at the painting of the child between the lion and the snake. He ran a finger along the lines of the now dry paint and remembered soft lips and whispers of a moan.

_'Metamorphosis'_ was what he called it.

o

The gallery was packed with strange creatures of the night parading like demons and angels. The masks that hid each person from the other, provided a sense of anonymity that empowered the bodies that swayed to the siren call of the paintings around them.

The Muggles thought they had it good.

The pieces that they saw captured time and place and froze them in a perpetual stance of sadness, filtered through the brilliant strokes of the artist's brush to become surreal but etheral. Even the darkness seemed hopeful, in every piece they saw.

The Wizards laughed as they walked amongst these naive counterparts and they smiled from the secret that they hid and had been hiding for so long.

Their pieces were of hope and peace tranforming into the chaos of darkness. Each piece reflected the fear that many of the witches and wizards had been carrying around inside their hearts. Agony bled from the pages, but there was beauty in each tear that the tiny mobile figures cried and there was courage in every drop of blood.

The artist stood aside as friends and strangers peered at each piece, catching glimpses of his soul.

The masquerade theme had been well planned. The theme of 'Darkness and Light, Collide' seemed adequate to descibe the artwort. And Severus knew that the muggles never once perceived that for every one of the pieces meant for their eyes, there were two wizarding ones there to balance the light in them.

Looking around the room, he was always surprised at the amount of people who turned out to see his art. What surprised Severus more, however, was that he could get everyone in a figurative room together and no one once thought to attack the other. The Death Eaters would stand beside the Muggles admiring the same piece and would never suspect that the air between them should be charged with hatred and revenge.

But there was power in anonmity.

Standing as the only still figure in a room of moving bodies he stood on that proverbial line between darkness and light.

At one end was a cat with green eyes and a too-pure soul, whose smile Severus would take with him whenever he needed hope in a world of despair and whose tears Severus kept bottled up inside, knowing that those tears were his and only his. Whatever mangled and corroded residue remained of his heart, Severus knew that he had given it willingly once very long ago in a park on a rainy afternoon to this little cat. And so he no longer had a right to reclaim what had been given unwilling but hopefully.

At the other end was a snake with the countenance of an angel. His silver eyes hid far more innocence than he would have ever admitted to and whose blonde hair was like spun gold mixed with platinum. But Severus knew that this son of darkness was not beyond redemption and he meant to save him from being totally consumed by the evil. For this wizard had been given Severus' soul from the moment of his birth.

Amidst a world of compromise, Severus made his choice.

"Draco may I have a word?"

"Oh Professor Snape is that you?"

"Who else would it be?"

"I don't know. All these masks and constumes..."

"Come. There is something we must speak about and I'd rather do it in private. Your mother appeared rather worried when she sought me out. What we discussed I must now discuss with you."

"That? I already know Professor but don't think I agree to it. I don't need to be protected or helped--"

"Not here Draco! Come."

Each step pushed the artist into the role of the Death Eater that he had once sworn to have cast aside. The sound of his footsteps, the curve of his fingers around Draco's arm, the warmth of bodies in close proximity, all echoed like a lover begging him to rethink their plan, yet the cry was useless. Severus had long since known that he was beyond redemption.

But from across the room, green eyes pierced like daggers into his back.

x-X-x


	4. Part 4of5

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Warning:** **_Slash. Alternate Universe. 'Out of Characterness'. HBP Spoilers._**

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **The Spy who became an Artist. The Child who needed a home. The Recluse who became a Teacher and the Boy who saved the world. Sometimes, age is just a number and love can save the world.

**Dedication:** To _Silverphoenix69_ who kept me sane while I wrote this, and to _Orionnaire_ for rescuing me and my French so many times.

**Author:** **_Spirit_**

**NB: There will be FIVE parts to this. Harry's age changes in each 'part'. To avoid confusion, keep this in mind as you read! **

o

o

_**Le Petit Chat**_

o

**Part IV**

Night blanketted the sky like the snow outside blanketted the ground. The air inside was cool but Snape couldn't see any visible windows as he silently surveyed the room he was sitting in. It looked ordinary as any regular man's room would be. Surprisingly it seemed that Potter had decided against giving into the nostalgia of bathing the room in the obnoxious Gryffindor colors of red and gold. Instead the sheets were a light brown color and the walls were grey. The carpet below Snape's feet was a cool off-white, interrupted only by a simple armchair set in the corner, on which Snape sat.

He waited.

The sound of a key turning in the lock shattered the silence like pieces of stained glass. The door opened with only the almost imperceptible shift of air. A shadow stepped into the room slowly, one hand reached for the Muggle light switch while the other held a wand at the ready. A flick of the switch brought home the realization that the light had been tampered with.

"Don't think I need this wand to hex you."

The door clicked shut, causing the strong Silencing charm in the room to spring up again. The outstretched wand was suddenly pointing in the direction of the waiting figure in the corner. Snape wasn't too concerned actually.

"Lacking in manners as always Potter," he snarled mockingly.

In the darkness Snape could just make out the twisting of Harry's facial features into a glare. The fingers around the wand tightened.

"How did you get in here? The room is warded. The house is unplottable. The door is password protected."

Snape rose and languidly walked over to the irate wizard. Up close he could see the green eyes burn anger but no matter how much he searched there was no hatred in their depth. A reprieve for now perhaps. He reached out to lightly run his thumb over the slightly red lips which were a little parched but no less tempting.

"And I suppose all that was to keep me away?"

Harry's green eyes hardened. The lips beneath Snape's fingertips parted and he almost gave into the urge to have them disappear beyond the flash of pearly white. "Get out."

Snape tilted his head in a challenge. The tight smile on his face became a smirk and his dark eyes seemed to blend further into the darkness. "Pourquoi?"

"Because you're not welcomed here." Harry stepped away from the light caress that Snape was burning into his lips. "And don't touch me."

Snape followed the retreat, until Harry had backed away so much that he was pressed up against the wall with nowhere else to go. Which exactly what Severus had been planning.

He leaned forwards, tilting his head as Harry tried to merge with the wall, to kiss the side of Harry's neck. The pulse beneath his mouth skipped a beat. Snape tried not to smile at that. Instead his tongue flickered out to trail a long wet line from the base of Harry's neck to Harry's ear.

"Have you missed me?" he asked in a hiss against the shell of Harry's ear, letting his breath cool the wetness. He brought his hands up to trap Harry as the younger wizard tried to escape.

"Fuck you," Harry growled with a glare.

Severus chuckled dryly before moving again to nibble at Harry's earlobe. "How many times have you said that this past year? How many other men have gotten the pleasure of just that?"

For some reason when Harry shivered at that it made Snape more angry.

"Are you afraid of me mon petit?" He bit down harder until Harry yelped. "Am I different than you remember? You tremble now as if you think I'll attack. Should I attack you?"

The green eyes burned angrily again. "Get your hands off me or I'll hex you six inches from death."

"As if you don't like it," Snape snarled. He refused to admit to the curl of anger in his stomach as he held Harry prisoner. He hadn't seen Harry for a year and for that year every news he gathered about Harry was the same. It seemed that his little cat had discovered the joys of mating because everywhere he turned there was a report on how Harry Potter had taken it upon himself to date the entire wizarding population. Snape refused to admit that all he had was one kiss and for a long time now, it wasn't enough. "I heard about the many, many men. It leaves me to wonder if I should feel a sense of pride in knowing that my own kiss opened Pandora's box for you."

Harry laughed. "Jealous?"

But Snape made no move to hide what laid beneath the swirling emotions behind his dark eyes. As unwise as it might have seemed and as out of character as this was, he used his emotions to capture Harry like a moth. And as the emerald gaze met his, Snape plundered the open mind without care or caution. Whatever it was that drove him these days reared its Slytherin head to abandon any sense of subtility as he sifted and discarded one memory after the next. Each time he encountered fodder for the rumor he tugged painfully at the image enough for Harry to cringe as he franically worked at throwing out the intrusion.

Harry was never any good at Occlumency but he was very good at spells. "Protego!"

Snape flew a feet into the air before gravity pulled him back to earth and he slammed painfully into a carpet that made no effort to buffer his impact. He had only a second to gather his bearing before Harry was advancing upon him with his wand and a string of spells. It took all of Snape's concentration to keep his shield spell steady while he tried to diverge the curses of the powerful wizard that he had pissed off.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry's wand flew through the darkness, bounced on the opposing wall before falling with a tiny thud on the carpet. It was amazing the level of magic that began to radiate off the younger wizard. He had Snape backed up against one leg of the bed but his anger crushed him to an almost suffocating point. Something burned inside of him. It didn't seem to have a name but it felt distorted, making his soul feel twisted and abused.

Pausing only to take off his glasses and send them flying in the same direction as his wand, Harry let out an animalistic sound that was like a lion roaring, before he pounced.

Snape only had just enough time to shift away from the bed before he had an armful of an angry man. His ribs protested the abuse but the rest of him was too busy fighting back as Harry attacked with fists flying, knees kicking and nails scratching in a very un-Gryffindor-like manner.

Since Snape was never a bottom, he flipped Harry over, laughing immediately at the shock that colored Harry's eyes at the reversal of position. A string of expletives followed and then of course the retaliation and protesting of how he was going to rip Snape apart with his bare hands and he would be damned if he took an accusation of being a man-whore. Severus had honestly never been so amused in quite a while.

He twisted Harry's arms above his head on the carpet, making sure that while he wasn't using his full weight to hold him down, Harry couldn't move. The boy had lost weight in the time away from Hogwarts but that didn't mean that the eighteen year old wasn't strong. Snape could feel a few bruises flaring up from the little bugger's fists and he was going to procure payment for each of them.

With the amusement still evident in his eyes and a silent dare to the wiggling figure, Severus shifted so that his knees pressed into Harry's thighs on each side and he was sitting on Harry's legs. He lowered his upper body onto Harry's, pausing only when their faces were in close proximity. Harry turned away immediately, but Severus caught the blush that tinged Harry's cheeks.

"This behavior is unacceptible Mr. Potter," Severus hissed. He tightened his fingers around the wrist and his knees against the the thighs as Harry squirmed again. "Do you think I came here for my health? Do you think I like being near you?"

Harry's head snapped back around to glare his fury.

"How many horcruxes have you destroyed yet?" Snape asked in what he considered to be a pleasant voice.

"As if I'd tell you!" Harry snapped.

"You had better Potter or you'll soon find how unpleasant a feeling it is to lose all feeling in your arms and legs. I assure you that I have all night and so shall you."

Harry mumbled something about 'pricks' and 'bastards' but his voice was a grudgingly less angry tone when he spoke audibly again. "I didn't need your help. You killed the greatest wizard ever. Do you really think that pointing me to a few horcruxes will save your soul?"

This time when Severus' fingers tightened he made sure that his nails bit into Harry's wrist intentionally. The Gryffindor didn't wince but Snape saw the pain flicker in his eyes.

"My soul is not up for discussion. Answer my question."

Harry smirked. "I did. Too bad you don't like what you heard."

The loud crack in the air echoed loudly and it took a while before the sting of his palm alerted Snape to the fact that he had done just what he had been thinking and had slapped Harry across the face. It took barely a second before Harry retaliated.

Severus saw stars as Harry head-butted him.

Severus backed jerkily away, rendering his prisoner free as he collapsed on his back on the carpet, holding his forehead as the world swam. He muttered a curse in French before he realised that Potter would have understood anyway so he cursed in English.

The darkness above his immediate vision darkened some more as a figure moved to hover over him.

"I found all three horcruxes. Your clues helped a lot. I don't know how I would have managed without the help." Harry's voice had gone a bit nervous as he peered down. "Are you alright? I thought you were stronger than that. Anyone would think you'd never had to fight hand to hand before. You slap someone they're bound to hit you back you know. And since you had my hands, well you should have realized that I was going to use my head..."

The rant continued. Severus tried not to laugh. It was relieving to realize that he hadn't forgotten how. After everything he had done in his life and especially from the year that had passed, his hands would permanently be washed in blood and his soul in shreds, but he could still be amused. He couldn't believe that his cat had almost cracked his skull and then had the audacity to be worried.

Severus shifted his position and before Harry could protest, long arms pulled him down as his lips were assaulted by another.

Harry immediately protested with his fists again but again Severus flipped him onto his back in an exact copy of their previous position. This time Severus used his free hand to cradle the back of Harry's head as he ruthlessly plundered Harry's mouth. Their lips twisted together. Teeth clicked. Nose bumped. It took but a moment to realize that Harry, for all his wiggling, was kissing back as frantically.

"Mine," Snape snarled, capturing Harry's bottom lips between his teeth drawing blood. Harry tried to kick him for that. "Mine. Mine. Mine. Damn it Potter you remember who tasted these lips first. Kiss another man again and I'll grind him to sand. And Merlin help me if you let another man so much as look at you from across the room."

Harry pulled away, but it wasn't just anger that made his eyes glisten this time.

"Prat. Murderer. What the fuck would I want with you? What the hell possessed me all those times I sat with some gorgeous guy who would have given me the world on a platter if I'd just asked, and turned him away. All for a wizard who kissed me one time and ruined the experience with anyone else. I didn't need your help finding the horcruxes. I don't need your help in battle. You might forget it Snape, but we don't fight on the same side and it fucking kills me every time I stand across from you knowing that this might be the day I'm forced to kill you. And not a word from you since the art show. Nothing! Asshole."

Severus ran his tongue against Harry's lip, tasting the tang of blood. "I see. Well I will endeavour to scare you less often Potter. Is there anything else you require or should I dub you my Lord and Master above all, at this very second."

Harry made a face that only brought home the pangs of realization in Snape that he missed that side of himself that could be lost in painting his little cat. Harry's hair was mussed from their tussle. His lips were bright red, but no longer bleeding. His breathing was a bit erratic, no doubt from having a weight on him. And his eyes were like wet emerald.

He was breathtaking in his anger.

Severus bent and kissed him again. Slower this time so that Harry had to arch into it to keep their lips together. He trailed a string of kisses along Harry's face, trailing his thumb everywhere he touched before returning to the slightly parted lips. Using his thumb and forefinger again he tugged Harry's mouth open further then lowered his mouth over the cavern created. He pulled away as Harry's tongue sought out his, returning only when the tongue retreated. This time Harry remained breathlessly still as he lapped at the sweet abyss of Harry's mouth.

Harry moan. The breath caught somewhere in his chest and he gasped. Severus could feel the growing hardness of Harry's erection pressed at the base of his stomach. He shifted slightly, pressing into it. Harry whimpered. His fingers curled into a useless fist since Severus was still holding on to his hand. He arched his entire body this time, but Severus had already shifted away so all he met was unforgiving air. Silent tears gathered in the corner of his eyes but he made no verbal protest.

This was not to punish though.

Severus abandoned Harry's mouth to lick the tears away from those eyes. He trailed his free hand down Harry's side then slipped his hand between their bodies to cup the throbbing flesh through the layer of Harry's pants. Harry made a choked sound again as Severus undid the button and zip and slipped his hand past the y-fronts to close his fingers tightly around Harry's engorged flesh. Harry let out a hiss of air as Severus rhythmically squeezed it lightly.

"How many other men saw you like this?" Harry's body was like a puppet beneath his fingers. When he pulled, Harry arched wantonly.

"None."

Severus nodded in approval. "See that it stays that way."

He removed his hand then slid his body along Harry's length until he was lying fully on top of him. Harry's erection was trying to poke a hole through his stomach so he shifted upwards and was severely disappointed when he could not align their erections together. This time it was Severus' turn to growl in protest.

He flipped over, pulling Harry on top of his body, releasing Harry's wrist in the process.

In fact he retreated entirely. His hand rested idly by his side, his legs parted to allow Harry's body to fall between but he made no move to secure Harry against his own throbbing heat. He gazed lazily up as Harry glared down in irritation.

"A little help?"

Severus smirked. "I should think not. Be brave Potter and take what you want."

Harry's expressional was filled with surprise, but a gentle shifting of Severus beneath him sent sparks sailing from between his legs to the very tips of his fingers. He didn't need to be urged twice. He reached out shyly to run his finger along the contours of Severus face and then his neck. He had to pause as he encountered buttons, but he lightly traced those too.

Severus allowed him a moment of musing before he thrusted again, resulting in a loud gasp from Harry. "I've never known you to be reticent Potter. Do get on with it before we both die from the lack of blood to our brains."

Harry blushed crimson.

"Maybe I should work on our clothes first," he muttered.

Snape's response was a pointed look which Harry took to mean that his suggestion was a good place to start.

He made quick work of removing his own muggle attire but was quickly swearing up and down when he found himself struggling with the buttons on Snape's wizarding robe.

"Do you have to wear so many bloody buttons?" he finally growled angrily. He was on his knees beside Snape's uncooperative side by then and was just getting more and more angry that he wouldn't get to the mound of Severus' arousal - that had not waned in the least - unless he could open the line of buttons.

"If you were this meticulous in Potions, Potter..." He left the sentence hanging when Harry glared at him.

Potter looked so distraught. He was only half aroused and damn near tears. Severus had to hide his smile once again, because he had really just wanted to know if his jealousy had a basis on which to be formed. And if Harry couldn't even get them undressed without going into cardiac arest, then there was hope yet.

"Come here."

Harry responded to the caress of the soft words and scooted back over and onto Snape. Soon he was wrapped in the cocoon of arms. Slowly, as if he was waiting to be stopped, he lowered his lips onto Severus'. Fingers trailed the ridge of his spine, tickling his naked back before they curled around the soft flesh of his ass. He was gently pressed upon the hard plane of Snape's body. Long legs wrapped around his thighs, as Severus arched into him. It didn't take much thought to thrust back. They moved like that together, in mimic of the act they were desperate to perform together, until Harry was fully hard again and keening softly against Severus' mouth.

Harry was so distracted that he never heard or saw what Snape did. All he knew was that one minute Snape was covered in irritating black cloth and the next second he was sliding along pale silk flesh. His heart rate spiked at the gasp of surprise that emmited from his lips.

In the dark and with his blurry eyesight, he couldn't make out what Snape looked like properly. He was smart enough to realise that this was exactly what Snape had planned on. From what he could feel, it was easy to tell that Snape had also lost weight, but this didn't bother him much. Harry lightly kissed the peak of one high cheekbone to bring this acceptance across.

"Tell me what to do," he whispered.

"Figure it out," came the nearly amused response.

Harry pondered for a while before he began to blush. "I don't have any...you know."

The body beneath him shifted provacatively and his erection got a pretty intimate acquaintance with Snape's. It send tiny shock waves throughout his body and it was all Harry could do not to moan long and loudly.

"We do have a problem then, don't we Mr. Potter."

In that second, Harry was ready to kill him. Just before he could reach that decision, his brain made an appearance to remind him that he was a wizard and if there was a potion he needed then the uncooperative bastard tormenting him, would probably know it in his sleep.

"Is there a potion?"

"No." Snape glared briefly, before the expression collapsed into a pointed look. "There is a spell."

Harry was obviously at a loss. His face split into an instant smile however when Severus growled at him then began to rant about how much Potter had been an obvious waste of knowledge. A hand slipped downwards to caress Harry's nether region again. This time the complicated spell that Snape said was lost in the actual realization that Snape had not needed his wand to cast the spell.

This realization was wiped entirely from Harry's immediate memory however, when he felt his insides coat with a cool, wet feeling. He moaned his pleasure.

"Well get on with it." Snape prodded Harry out of his daze.

Harry didn't need to be told twice. It took a few tries and random bursts of laughter or curse words - he even managed to get a slight smile out of the silent, un-helpful man beneath him - before he finally managed to impale himself. Sliding achingly slowly down Severus' length, connected in the most intimate way, Harry thought he was going to explode.

Head falling forwards, breathing heavily through his mouth while he hissed in air, Harry clutched at Snape's shoulders as he slid lower. Stars exploded beneath his closed eyelid as he finally released the groan and whimper that was being pulled from somewhere deep inside of him.

Then suddenly, Severus' hand rose from where they had been adamantly resting. Fingers gripped his sides while sharp nails bit into the flesh, and Harry's descent abruptly stopped.

Harry's eyes flew open, but he found that he could not hold in the heat that ripped through his body at the sight of Severus' expression. Eyes like midnight had turned so dark that they were like granite glistening in the night. The pale flesh on his face was tinged an interesting shade of red and his lips were wet as if they had only recently been sucked in earnest. In that moment, he was the sexiest image Harry had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

"Too slow," Severus gasped into the silence. "You'll kill me."

Tightening his fingers even more along Harry's waist, he tugged until Harry was sliding upwards along his shaft, almost entirely pulling their bodies apart. Then he changed angles slightly until he heard Harry gasp and he knew he had the right one. He spared a moment to savor the hot ring of muscles that clenched almost too tightly, encasing him in the heat of Harry's body.

"Take a deep breath," he instructed softly.

Harry howled the entire journey downwards as Severus slowly but rather efficiently pulled him down until Snape was buried to the hilt.

He collapsed upon Severus, panting against a slim shoulder.

"You have to move."

Harry frantically shook his head. "Je ne peux pas."

Severus threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of Harry's head. He kissed the side of Harry's neck then his shoulder and finally the back of Harry's palm. A light sweat glistened on the toned muscles and the expanse of tanned colored skin. He smelled intoxicating and tasted salty. He was trembling slightly.

"You can," Severus told him softly. "Est-ce que je t'ai fait mal?"

Harry shook his head, finally meeting Severus' eyes. It wasn't something as simple as pain that was reflecting in the green depth of his eyes. Severus hadn't hurt him when he had fully entered him. His emotions had him overwhelmed and they just seemed to intensify at the deep level of care he saw on Severus' face. Well at least he knew this wasn't just sex or release for Snape as well.

Using the capetted floor for leverage, Severus thrust gently into Harry to coax him to move.

Harry's face twisted with something that looked like agony, but the gasps he was making went straight through Severus. He traced the contours of Harry's face, the exposed column of Harry's throat, and the sweat covered chest before slipping his hands between them to grasp Harry's throbbing cock. They moved together in a slightly erratic rhythm at first, when Harry finally picked up the cue to move or die, but with a few small adjustments they were soon in perfect syncrony.

Harry's head was thrown back, his fingers curled into Severus' shoulders like claws. He was purring...panting...and then with a shudder he cried out Severus' name and was spewing hot liquid across both their stomachs and chest. There was nothing in the world that could have prevented Severus from climaxing as well at the sight of Harry curled almost double above him and he did, calling out Harry's name so softly that it was meant only for the man in his arms and the hot air pounding between them.

In the moments that followed, Harry managed only enough to call his wand to him and clean them both up as their bodies slid apart. Then he collapsed tiredly across Severus chest, panting softly against the other wizard's neck. Severus held him tightly, making soothing strokes against the still trembling back.

"Are you alright?" he asked Harry softly.

Harry nodded but then quickly shook his head. He trailed small kisses along Severus' throat and the sharp edge of Severus's jaw, then upon the corner of Severus' mouth before his lips crashed into the waiting lips beneath it. The kiss they shared was long and gentle as they reacquainted themselves with the taste of each other.

Harry broke the kiss first, with a sudden burst of laughter.

"You know the bed is just there. All we had to do was stumble over to it," he chuckled. "Yet here we are."

Severus raised an eyebrow in a perfect arch. He moved, dumping Harry heavily onto the ground, before he rose to his feet to stand peering imperiously down. Harry didn't seem to be able to move on his own. Severus reach down and with a firm tug he lifted Harry bodily into his arms.

Harry moan his pleasure against the cool sheets as Severus deposited him on the bed.

"No cuddle?" he asked with a mock glare.

Severus lightly brushed his fingers through the mop of wild black hair. "Go to sleep."

Harry groaned petulantly, but when Severus only leaned to kiss him softly upon his forehead, he took that to mean that he had been right in assuming what he was assuming. He sighed as he closed his eyes. By Eurydice, he wasn't about to cry like a child in front of this man. He had been a willing participant and he didn't regret anything. Even if he was in so many ways, sleeping with the enemy now.

"I only have Nagini left to kill," he said softly. "I expect you know that though so you can go tell him that. I don't care."

"You think I'm here to get information on you?"

Harry refused to open back his eyes. "Well you didn't come here for your health as you said."

He was surprised when he felt a light kiss at his temple. It felt like an unspoken appology. It only made him feel worse, and the tears burned even worse behind his tightly shut eyelids. But he couldn't bear to see the man abandon him with only his memories and bruises as proof that he had even been there.

"Goodbye Harry," Severus whispered against the curve of Harry's ear.

He dressed with a quick efficiency, then used his wand and a summoning spell to call the five broken horcruxes to him. The Dark Lord would need proof and Snape intended to stay on his less vindictive side by producing the abused trophies. He could close his mind to whatever prodding it may come under but he knew that he was less likely to be punished once the Dark Lord was faced with his own impending downfall, if he was the one to bring the news.

On the bed, Harry was breathing too shallow to really be sleeping.

Like the little cat that he was indicative of, he was curled into a foetal position letting stubborness dictate his determination not to say a farewell. Snape didn't touch him again. He had damaged the lion inside the younger wizard enough for the night. By claiming him then abandoning him, he was causing Potter enough pain already. Even if as he turned away, Snape felt just as damaged inside.

Severus apparated with a pop that took Harry's heart with him, leaving both the room and the wizard feeling hollow.

o

"Go! Leave me!"

The minute Harry's feet touched solid ground he had pushed hard against the arms that held him prisoner. He caught the other wizard by surprise, enough for the hold to loosen. He ducked away, stumbling backwards.

Harry's vision blurred. The room seemed to sway and he swayed along with it, emmitting a soft gasp from lips that were already turning blue. His leg throbbed with pain.

"Leave me," he whispered. "It's too late."

Strong arms grabbed him again, just as the floor rushed up to meet him.

"Stay here." Harry was abandoned on the cold tile floor. Somewhere behind the haze and pain he thought he recognized the place, but it was already too hard to concentrate. "Don't touch it and if it itches just bite on your tongue. I don't want the poison to accelarate."

Severus spared a glance at the wounded figure on his bathroom floor.

He never thought that the next time he took Harry to Spinner's End the boy would be the now grown but just as trusting person. He couldn't even remember if Harry had seen the bathroom when he was five and he doubted that the brat would remember either. But Severus had more important things to think about this time around.

The house had changed since the last time he had Harry over. It was no longer a studio, but a proper house. No one would even be able to tell that over a decade previous, there had been no separate kitchen or dining room, or the hidden staircase that Wormtail had taken such a shining to that ascended into the upper levels where the bedrooms had been conjured.

It was the kitchen that he ran to as his thoughts swirled. He ramsacked his neat cupboards to grab a nearly empty bottle of firewhiskey and another one full of scotch. He detoured into his makeshift paint'n potions room to grab a large stoppered bottle off the shelf that he knew contained phoenix tears in the formula. It wasn't as if he could hope to call a phoenix and Harry didn't have all that time anyway.

Returning to the bathroom he threw the bottles to Harry.

"Drink it you bloody idiot!" he snapped when Harry sat staring stupidly at the firewhiskey. The look in the green eyes was so confused that a pillar of fear ran through Severus.

He ripped open one of Harry's pants legs with his bear hands, not giving Harry time to protest. He ripped off a strip of it to tie tightly around Harry's left leg and hoped that it was enough to stop the circulation of blood and poison.

The two points of red on the side of a pale calf had a greenish edge to them. The entire leg was swollen and hot. Slight spasms of tremor would course through at random intervals as if it was being electrocuted or crucioed.

Snape had never seen a snake bite like that before, but then Nagini had been a very special snake.

"You have about an hour before the Order starts to look for you Potter. I have about half an hour before someone in the Circle realizes that I'm missing and I'd rather avoid that. But if we don't get the poison out, that will not mean a thing so try your damnest not to move while I work."

Snape grabbed the now empty bottle of firewhiskey from Harry's tight grasp. He moved away only long enough to smash the glass against the brick edge of the doorway. He barely noticed the tiny pieces of glass that rained upon his wrist as he found the biggest shard.

He grabbed the bottle of whiskey next and somehow in his haste, managed to get the cork off. He splattered a large amount over the shard before pouring half the amount of golden liquid upon the bite mark.

Harry screamed.

Severus took the opportunity of Harry's distraction to reach out and grasp the leg tightly. With a few quick but brutal swipes he made the small holes bigger. Then he hurled the shard across the room to hold on to Harry's leg as the younger wizard tried to pull away in his pain.

"Courage mon petit chat," he murmured as Harry sobbed.

His mouth closed firmly over the oozing points of red. He sucked as hard as he could. Harry screamed and screamed again as Severus got a pattern going. Suck. Spit. Suck. Spit. The black liquid that ran from the wound seemed to never end, but Severus would not stop. Over and over, as he worked he silently prayed to whatever deity existed to not let him fail. The venom just kept pouring bitter and metallic in his mouth as it mixed with Harry's blood. And suddenly it was all blood and no black that was being sucked out and he could finally stop. He paused to cleanse his mouth of the foul fluid. Then, he poured the remainder of the scotch on the reddened area to cauterize the wound before he finally dared to remove the strip of cloth.

Harry had passed out, but he wasn't dead and that was all that Severus cared about.

Severus took a minute to gaze down on him as the adrenaline in his body stilled and the fear he had refused to admit to calmed to just a buzz inside of him.

He could see the slight rise and fall of Harry's chest as proof that the boy was still alive. There were tear tracks that lined the reddened cheeks - Merlin had it been so painful? - and the lower lip was bleeding as if Harry had taken a chunk out of it.

Severus took up the vial of tears that had rolled a short distance away when Harry had collapsed. He rubbed it over the wound on Harry's leg and gently over the abused bottom lip and then over the crescent points that bled in the palms of Harry's hands where the boy had clenched his nails into his own flesh to combat the agony.

"Harry?" Severus reached for the still figure, pulling him tightly into his arms, burying his face in the space between the side of the stubborn chin and still too thin shoulders. He was whispering in French like a man gone mad who spoke only to dying things. "Wake up. We have to go back."

Perhaps the tone of the words tugged at something in Harry's heart because the green eyes fluttered open.

"You shouldn't have done that," he whispered in the same fluent French. His voice was no longer slurred. The split in his lip had already healed.

"Should I have let you die?"

Harry twisted a little in Snape's arms. He rubbed the small stubble on his chin against the hollow pale skin of Severus' cheek. He tried not to kiss the smooth expanse of skin. His insides ached to do just that.

"They'll know," he murmured softly. "Once he finds Nagini dead then it won't take long to realize that you're nowhere to be found and he'll know you helped."

Snape scoffed. "No such thing will happen Potter because I do not plan on being missing once the carcass is found -"

Harry interrupted as if Snape had never spoken. "The Order will be looking for me and if they find us they'll skin you before asking me any questions. We should get back."

"Not until I am sure you will not keel over the instant you rise to your feet."

Harry smiled a little to himself and a little on the outside. "I'm fine. Stop worrying."

Surprisingly it was Snape who gave into the desire first and brought their lips together. It had been three months since they last saw each other. Far too long to try and fight the pull they both felt from being so close.

"Missed you," Harry admitted brokenly against the lips he dreamt about tasting every night. "It's not fair. I know you're not evil, because although you're covered in darkness, it is not the same thing."

Severus gave him a parting kiss that lasted longer than it should have.

"We must leave now," he finally said, rising to his feet and pulling Harry up with him. "We must get back to the people we pledged our souls to. Apparate."

Harry clung to him tightly. Arms wrapped vise-like around the slim form, he tried to merge with the body against him and when it didn't happen he felt like his heart was bleeding. But he would not admit to the words that encircled his mind. It was too soon. He was probably too young. If anyone deserved his heart though it was this man that he secretly loved.

'Don't leave me,' he wanted to say.

"When will I see you again?" he asked instead.

Potion stained fingers on the hand of an artist, traced the curve of Harry's face. It almost seemed as if Snape was memorizing him. The pink of his cheeks. The edge of his jaw. The tip of his nose. The startling green of his eyes. The shape of his lightning bolt scar. Severus tried to hide the feelings the man in his arms evoked in him.

"I will find you," he finally responded. "Just as I do now."

Harry just nodded. In dejection, perhaps. In fear, maybe. He didn't stay long enough for Snape to pinpoint the reason behind the subdued nature. One second he was there and the next he was gone with a loud pop and no words, in his determination to not say goodbye. Snape stood in the silence and the empty spaces for a long time, before he followed suit and also apparated, leaving sharp pieces of glass, a strip of black cloth and a pool of blood and poison in the middle of the room.

'Stay here,' he had wanted to whisper...but he hadn't.

o

The room was deadly silent as Severus made his way over to the chair that he had occupied the last time he had stolen into Harry's new house. It was still too easy to infiltrate. Easier still as Severus suspected that Harry had charmed the wards to allow him specific entry. It was a mark of trust that would eventually be abused. There was not a person alive who had trusted Snape and not died at the tip of a wand.

Standing over the sleeping figure on the bed, Severus had the overwhelming urge to remind himself of how soft those cheeks were and how silky the black hair felt. But there was no time to pull Harry into his arms and hold him against his body in hope of protecting his little cat.

Instead he retreated to the side, and sat on the chair.

Pulling out his wand he cast a soft lumos spell before levitating the wand as a sort of spotlight. He had made sure to bring with him the minimal equipment he would need to do his task and that only involved sticks of charcoal and a piece of paper. He wandlessly transfigured one stick of charcoal into a tilted easle that almost rested on his lap as he began the drawing that had been in his head ever since Nagini's murder the week before.

The scratching sound of charcoal on paper was like morphine to Severus' system. It had been so long since he gave in to his artistic side. He fell into a slight trance as the piece took shape, seeming to come to life even though it was being drawn crudely and with a small amount of dark magic being bled into it. It was special because he was not using Harry as a model in this one. He was using him as a muse.

Two figures stood facing each other. Severus did not have time to draw the fine details that faces would require, so the shorter of the two men had his head tilted upon the other's shoulder with arms wrapped tightly around the taller man's neck. It was as if he was clinging from fear and trusted only the man he held on to.

The taller man was frozen in the act of pressing a kiss upon the mess of black hair that obstructed everything but his eyes from view. There was no mistaking the darkness in those eyes, but they held tenderness too. And they were sad, as if he knew he would not be able to protect this man he held forever. His arms were wrapped tightly around the smaller man's waist, cradling him against his body.

His large, black, bat-like wings folded around the two of them, forming a shield that held at bay whatever it was that was trying to tear them apart.

"What did you draw?"

Severus almost expected the emerald eyes, that peered at him, to glow in the dark, before Harry shifted and reached for his glasses and then a lampswitch. The nightlamp that Harry turned on flooded the room with a soft light that was not strong enough to illuminate where Snape sat, still hidden in shadows.

Severus added finishing touches to the sketch before grabbing his wand out of the air. A quick sucession of spells got rid of the blue light at the tip and the transfigured table. He rose from the chair slowly, holding the sketch between his finger tips as he approached. He could feel timgles running up and down his arm as he held out the picture in a sacrificial manner as if it was an offering to a god of whom he was not worthy.

The tingles spiked randomly. Severus watched as Harry rubbed his scar slowly, as if he barely noticed the pain he was no doubt feeling. The sketch was just as slowly taken from his hand and Severus then watched the emotions that played across the younger man's face.

"It's us," Harry said softly. Severus nodded but Harry did not notice. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you," Severus whispered so softly that it was just air.

His dark mark began to burn excruciatingly and even in the dark he could see the way Harry's scar was reddening to an angry-looking blob. Still they did not move. Even as the pain got to be so much that they were both breathing shattered breaths of air.

"They're coming." Harry's voice was so calm that it sent shivers down Snape's spine. "You opened up the wards. You've led them straight to me."

There were no words that could be said, so Severus nodded.

"They're almost here." Harry closed his eyes and one single tear escaped, but when he opened them again there was just a void in the green eyes that gave away no emotion. "Go then. He's waiting for you. Go play the perfect little servant. I'm sure I'll be seeing you in a little while."

Severus reached out and lifted the stubborn chin with the tips of his fingers. He leaned down so that he could tilt his forehead upon Harry's warm and pounding scar. He aligned their noses before capturing Harry's lips in a kiss that tore a sob from the younger wizard.

"Be brave my little cat," He whispered against the soft lips. "I will be with you to the end."

They pulled apart as feet thundered up the stairs approaching the bedroom. Severus stepped away as the door flew to pieces. He covered his face with his white mask as no less than ten other wizards joined him. And he raised his wand at the Gryffindor who sat calmly watching the precedings.

Severus apparated away to the sound of Harry screaming.

x-X-x


	5. Part 5of5

**Disclaimer:** The characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Warning:** _**Slash. Alternate Universe. 'Out of Characterness'. HBP Spoilers.**_

**Pairing:** Severus/Harry

**Rating: R**

**Summary: **The Spy who became an Artist. The Child who needed a home. The Recluse who became a Teacher and the Boy who saved the world. Sometimes, age is just a number and love can save the world.

**Dedication:** To _Silverphoenix69_ who kept me sane while I wrote this, and to _Orionnaire_ for rescuing me and my French so many times.

**Author:** _**Spirit**_

**NB: There will be FIVE parts to this. Harry's age changes in each 'part'. To avoid confusion, keep this in mind as you read! **

o

o

_**Le Petit Chat**_

o

**Part V**

It was hard to fade into obscurity again. It was almost impossible to believe that having the strength to do it once was enough to give him the skills needed to disappear again. Having been a part of a world, lived and loved, it was a shock to be cut off from the people he knew.

But Severus was nothing if not a survivor.

Paris, France was luckily still a beautiful city to him. Maybe it didn't have the comfortable feel of Great Britain but it was enough to soothe his demons. And those he had in abundance. One did not run away from a situation unless it was unbearable. Two years ago, Severus' life had gotten to be excrutiatingly unbearable. When he left, he had left behind his heart and soul, but at least in Paris he was assured of never having to face the reality of what had happened.

He could still remember the night.

In that first year he had relived that night so many times. Random walks to the boulangerie had transformed from just a regular sidewalk of people and painters to a room of blood and screams. And he would be on his knees, torn between the man he loved and the man who loved him. The lion, the snake and the shield that protected them. If love was a painting it would have been a twisted mass of colors bathed in black and red or grey. How he had managed to keep them both alive was a feat for the gods, but he had done it. And then he fled, leaving them behind.

It was easier to flee than to fight for his virtue. He was no innocent in the matter and when the Aurors has shown up there was no time to think about what would become of them all. He could still hear the pops of apparition as pandemonium broke out and the Death Eaters, divided by the loss of their leader, had turned to plan B and apparated for their lives.

He had made sure that Draco knew to leave England as soon as the Healers had patched him up properly. If he had to apparate on the sidewalk outside of St. Mungo's then so be it. What got to Severus as he watched Draco being levitated away by the Aurors was that he would probably never know if his plan worked.

He could remember emerald eyes looking at him with a look of pure exhaustion and pain.

"Go," Harry had whispered.

In that moment Severus honestly knew that he could have marched down to Lucifer himself than to find the strength to leave this man again. He couldn't move away and amidst the sound of shouts and the flashes of spells he had needed only to pull the boy into his arms.

"Go," Harry whispered again, "I'll be okay."

But he hadn't been okay and they both knew it. When Severus had released him, his arms had been covered in blood and Harry had swayed dangerously. He had refused Severus' hold again though, pushing him away harder than his broken body should have allowed. He had shouted for Severus to go that last time, as Aurors converged around them.

Severus apparated as Harry crumbled to the ground. And that was the image he had taken with him. Two years in hiding. A war over. A Dark Lord dead. A hero mortally wounded. A demon escaping from the belly of hell. And death tainting the air between them.

Severus' life was different now, and maybe not as obscure as he planned. If he had changed, it was only because the world had changed him and he had no desire to fight for yet another cause. His life was quiet now. Colder now, without the warmth of life, but he had always trained himself to be a creature of solitude and that came in handy as he lived his life around his art now in the Muggle parts of grande Paris.

"Excusez moi monsieur, êtes-vous l'artiste?"

Standing in the middle of a gallery of his pieces never failed to pull Severus out of his reminiscence. Sometimes he could blend into the crowd just long enough to lose himself in the memories of that other life and that other Severus. But soon enough someone would approached him and he would be Severus the artist again and not Severus, the wizard, the Death Eater or the spy.

"Yes I am the artist."

The thin little French Muggle in a grey two piece suit holding a catalogue, beamed at Severus. Knowing what would come next Snape responded with a look that promised an awful death if the man dared to ask the question that was obvious. They were standing before one of the pieces afterall.

"How much is this painting?" The man's voice had gone softer, but no less determine as the French words rolled off his tongue.

Severus took a deep breath and silently recited all the different poisons he had at his disposal, before he gave a tight smile. "That piece is not for sale."

Five pieces. All for display purposes only.

Most people who saw the pieces could appreciate why they were not for sale. It was obvious that those pieces held something far beyond what the other paintings had. There was something about them that called to anyone who saw them, but the magical essence of them told that they were too valuable to be priced and sold. They were all of the same person. Even an idiot could see that, even if the young man in it was captured at different stages in life. And he was magical too. Perhaps this was why whenever Muggles saw them they were captivated.

This fifth piece was the one that everyone stood enthralled beneath. The other four had just been teasers where no matter how far they twisted or craned their necks, the face of the special person had always been obscured. Not even 'The Shadow and the Star', the re-done piece with the winged demon, held as much emotions.

Yet, this one was just a portrait.

Just green eyes and the perfect cupid's bow of lips on a face that had a look that was far too wise for the youth that it portrayed. Shaggy black hair that looked permanently tussled cascaded over a forehead that hid a shape too faded to decifer. The eyes pierced the canvas, as if they were permanently searching the crowd that gazed at him, for one person. There were no tears, but he brought tears to the eyes of everyone who looked at him. There was an underlying sadness in those green eyes. He was permanently broken and so very lost, but there was hope too. Whoever he needed so desperately would return to him one day. No one could leave such an enchanting creature alone for long, afterall.

"You loved him." The words were soft and held an understanding that Severus did not expect. "Without him you are just broken."

Against his better judgement, Severus reached out to trace his fingers over the embossed letters of the title that hung below the piece. He couldn't stare at those eyes anymore. When he had sat alone and painted Harry the way he remembered him, it had been almost too painful. Hanging publicly for Muggles to look at in their ignorance, not knowing who this man was or what he was, seemed criminal. Severus wanted nothing more than to gather the pieces into his hands and hide them away from the prying Muggle eyes. But it was Harry's birthday today and every year so far he honored it with an artshow.

"He was just a muse," Severus finally responded softly, but the Muggle beside him did not look convinced.

He seemed to have more that he wished to say but Severus had enough of the conversation. He wasn't about to open up his past to a complete stranger. Especially a Muggle at that, who would never understand the sacrifices that had been made for their sake.

"He was just a muse," Severus repeated before turning away.

Standing in the middle of a gallery with far too many people than he could reasonably tolerate, Severus suddenly began feeling agoraphobic. He need a bit of fresh air from the images and sounds that had nothing to do with the Muggles around and more to do with the beautiful cat eyes that he had immortalized on canvas. He ran his fingers through his hair, pinched the bridge of his nose and felt like unleashing a wave of curses on everyone in his vicinity. He needed to calm himself.

"Everyone, get the hell out of my way!"

Luckily, rude, obnoxious artists were nothing new to the francophones. They merely gave him half amused smirks before parting like a sea before him. He stormed pass them not caring how much of a bastard he was being. It was Harry's birthday and he didn't like the way his insides hurt from missing Harry.

Halfway to the door there was an uproar.

People ducked, men and women gasped while children screamed as two owls flew over their heads and into the rooms. How they had made it to the fifth floor of the gallery was quite remarkable, but as they flew with their intimidating wing spans, no one doubted that anyone had risked their lives to stop them.

Severus stopped walking as soon as they perched on a marble half column. It was obvious that they were for him. He reached for the larger grey one with its black tipped beak and managed to extract the piece of cream colored parchment from its leg. He barely saw the Hogwarts seal as he ripped through it to begin to read the enclosed letter.

_Severus,_

_Perhaps I am the last person that you would hope to write to you. Or maybe these few years have helped you to forgive as even now I am realizing just how much I seek your forgiveness. It was wrong of me to accuse you and even worse for the Order to believe that you abandoned us. As your collegue for all those years I should have known better than to believe that you could so easily turn your back on what is right. I am not writing you to preach a message that you already know. I do not seek you out now to remind you of your pain. I know you enough, and should hope I still do, to recognize that you have stayed away because you do not feel ready to return to the life you led here in Wizarding Britain. I merely write to you now because I bring good news. I should hope that it is news you wish to hear as you have certainly waited long enough._

_Your property has been restored to you Severus. As of today you are a free and innocent man. Many of the Death Eaters were not given such pardon and those who have lived are now locked where they belong in Azkaban. It is now safe for you to return, should you wish. I take this time to appreciate that this it may not be your wish. No doubt two years is a long enough time to form new bonds and plant new roots wherever you have fled to. I don't blame you for fleeing. I understand that you had no choice. It is because of this why I approach you with this letter today after these two year. Hogwarts is reopening again and as the new Headmistress I find that I am at a loss for both a Potions professor and a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. In fact, I have only just recently filled the space for a Transfigurations professor to which I am incredibly grateful. Either of these remaining positions can be yours if you desire. Both in fact, if you believe you can manage. _

_I don't know if this will sway your decision and I can only hope that it does not deter you, but Harry Potter has agreed to fill in either of the positions if you refuse any. I don't know the nature of your relationship with him. He has changed from the boy we knew as a student. He fought very hard to have you released and it is by his words that you are free, as he refused to budge on his belief in your innocence. He believed in Draco Malfoy's innocence too. Something which shocked both me and the rest of the Wizarding world. Perhaps this news will sway you. Draco is also free. In fact he plans to marry soon. As both his parents are dead he has inherited quite a fortune. And you know young Malfoy. He now acts as if he is a prince among paupers. But if you come I have no doubt that you can reign his arrogance in._

_I have said all this Severus, in supplication. It has been two years. The war is finally well and truly over for those of us who fought in the front lines. There are those who lived who should never have and there is one who died who perhaps deserved to see this victory but sacrificed himself to bring about an end. These are things of the past, even now. Perhaps what we should learn is that the these things we need to leave behind. The future awaits us._

_I await your response._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Severus glared at the paper in hopes that it would spotaneously ignite. He had finally managed to recreate himself and find some semblance of normalcy and now he was faced with this. Well at least this time it had only taken two years. Strange, since he had been the one to deliver Potter over to Voldemort. There had been no warning and no plan so it was amazing that the boy had pulled off the impossible and managed to keep a clear head. The result of which was that the Dark Lord had died and Potter had probably fought the entire Wizengamot to make Severus seem like the hero. Well if McGonagall or anyone else thought that he was just going to uproot himself at her beck and call without first drinking half a glass of scotch and having a good moment to think - a private moment not ruined by the whispers of people pretending to truly understand his art - she was in for a nasty shock.

Still in an annoyed state of mind he reached out to the other owl.

It was white with big brown eyes that seemed strangely intelligent and more than a little bit judgemental as it waited for Severus to extract the letter from its leg. Severus could only imagine that it was an owl from the ministry that was delivering to him the news of his verdict. He prepared himself to read empty words that filled the paper with useless information, of which he couldn't care more or less about, than where to go to fill out the documents that stood between him and his property. He had to be careful on unscrolling the piece of parchment. Aurors were picky in the way that they got annoyed if there was even a spot on the official letter and should he decide to go back to Engand it wouldn't do any good to infuriate the Aurors.

He was in for a surprise when he finally got the letter open. On looking for the usual sparkling letterhead proclaiming the 'Ministry of Magic' and its address, it was very easy to see that no such heading existed. There were only six words written on the paper. Handwritten. They could have only been from one person. Staring at the words, Severus felt the world fade away and the people around him were just background noise and mild distractions. There were only the words. And they made Severus' chest hurt uncomfortably to read them so simply written. He stared at them until they blurred into a mass of confusing lines and all Severus could think was that this was the one thing that could possibly convince him to return to his old life. There was just one wizard, and this letter was the one request he could accept.

_Come home. Please. Peniwynth misses you._

o

Peniwynth at winter was dark and enchanting.

Light snow fell like a curtain and the blanket of white covered everything in the courtyard. The manor was a beacon, with the background of the night illuminating it in a way that could only be magical. Severus stood before the front doors and ran his fingers against one of gargoyles that protected the entrance. The hideous stone creature shifted under the caress as if it could not get enough of the warmth of his master's fingertips.

It had been too long, Severus agreed silently with the gargoyle. He had stayed for longer than he thought he would have, but now he was home again.

"Is he here?" he asked softly. "Or did I lose him again?"

The gargoyle didn't have an answer for him this time. Instead it hung its grey head into the position of its twin. Severus' fingers slipped from the cold marble slowly. The gargoyle's action could only mean a denial. Severus' expression hardened at the thought that Harry had not waited for him. He had returned to nothing, but no matter, he needed no one to survive and this time was no different.

His thoughts ran to the letter he had sent back to McGonagall in response to her owl to him.

_Minerva,_

_Time, they say, heals all wounds. I find that, as I disagree with most men's words, I disagree with these also. Time has never been my friend. Through time I have lost everything, gained only darkness and become only a shell of the wizard I was at the beginning. I'd like to think that I am smart enough not to want to start this process all over again. _

_My time at Hogwarts have long passed. Perhaps I feel that there is nothing left for me to teach and those who wait for me to impart knowledge only waste their time. If this war has taught us anything it is that time is unfaithful for it loves some men more than others. No Minerva, I will not subject myself to a task I can no longer carry out in good faith. I will return to Britain when I no longer feel the burn of time. If I can face my past then may I learn to accept my future._

_I will endeavour to keep in contact but I request only that for whatever I choose to do with what time I have, you will not ask me again to return to Hogwarts. One day I will, but not while my memories and my regrets are strong._

_I cannot change my past, but I will not become a slave to the future._

_Regretfully,_

_Severus Snape _

The doors opened with a firm touch of Severus' palms against the giant spider shaped knockers.

Severus stepped into the Hall slowly. Candles flared from being magically lit and the diamonds that hung from the chandeliers sparkled in the light of the new flames. Above, the magical ceiling reflected the gentle fall of snow from a sky that was fast approaching the darkness of night. The black and white marble columns and cross beams stood like sentries and swords, in remembrance of a time when they had been able to share their unique perspective with a child.

It was home, and Severus had missed it more than he was willing to admit. The silence would be his blanket and the shadows would be his muse. Perhaps he could learn to love his solitude again.

"You made me wait four months."

The quiet voice shattered the silence, and echoed in a way that only one who had diligently practised could achieve.

Severus briefly closed his eyes, refusing to accept that he was wrong. He refused to accept that he had ached to hear that voice again. He did not deserve the wizard who spoke them. Yet there was Harry, waiting for him. On the staircase of gold and marble, he looked taller that Severus remembered. His mop of black hair was tamed into a length that hid the faded scar on his forehead and lightly brushed the collar of his shirt in the back. With his arms crossed and his face set in a fairly convincing scowl, Severus saw only the emerald green eyes on a face blessed by the gods.

There was a part of him that had always loved this wizard. The child, the boy, the man, the hero had been his anchor in those times of his life when doubt had run rampant and difficult decisions had to be made.

"This has always been your story," Harry said softly when he was only a few feet away from Severus. "I'll always be waiting for you it seems."

Severus reached out to him and marvelled silently when Harry didn't hesitate to embrace him. Arms wrapped tightly around each other, Severus kissed the column of flesh at the side of Harry's neck. He buried his face in the soft strands of Harry's hair and inhaled the scent that was unique only to Harry.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Severus asked, for the first time in his life allowing his words to convey everything he was feeling. "You are perfect and I..."

"You make me into perfection. Without you I am just broken." Harry smiled slowly as his words sank in. He drew out of the tight embrace enough to watch the play of emotions on Severus' face as everything began to fall into place.

When he opened his mouth to speak, Harry stopped him with fingers against his lips.

"No. No words." Harry's fingers caressed Severus' lips slowly. "I just wanted to see you. I couldn't stop myself."

Severus retracted one arm from around Harry's waist to captured the fingers that teased his lips. He kissed the light pink palm and then kissed each fingertip slowly, never removing his gaze from the sparkling green eyes that gazed back at him. He wanted to kiss Harry's lips until the other wizard was breathless. He wanted to hold him, fuse their bodies together, and never forget that this man was a gift he would never know how to repay.

"Je tu désire." Severus leaned across to whisper softly into Harry's ear. "Permets-moi de te prendre."

He heard the sharp intake of breath that Harry took and he felt the shiver that ran through Harry's body at his words. Harry's arms tightened around Severus' waist as he tilted his head onto Severus' shoulder. Severus held him tighter as he awaited the acceptance or denial to his request. Let me have you, he had said but he was afraid that he had already taken too much from this man.

"Bien sûr," Harry finally responded softly, "I have always been yours to take."

o

Their love making was different this time from the last. This time there was no unresolved tension between them, no war to fight and no worries about allegiances and betrayal.

Severus tried to erase all the sadness and grief that he had ever caused in the wizard that laid so forgivingly before him on his bed. Silk sheets of dark grey contrasted with the golden skin as dark green eyes invited him to have his way. He kissed every line and curve of Harry's body, listening to the moans and whimpers that they procured. He savored the sound of each of them, using them to purge himself like no other could do for him.

"You are so..." and words failed him for the first time in a long time.

Harry smiled, reaching out to him.

Fingers became tangled in the curtain of black hair that formed as Severus gazed into those green eyes. He could feel the pad of Harry's thumb as it traced circles across his cheekbone, along his jawline and across his cheek. The emerald eyes searched his gaze in a look that was a combination of innocence and experience all mixed together in this one wizard. He was so brave and so beautiful, but Severus couldn't seem to get the words past his lips as he held on to the light in Harry's eyes.

Buried deeply within him such that their bodies seemed to be an extension of each other, Severus wondered if he couldn't feel Harry's soul through their joined bodies. Or in the tips of his fingers as this time he traced the contours of Harry's face. Or in the sweet bliss of Harry's lips as he brought their mouths together in a kiss that would imprint itself in his memory.

He moved his hips, marvelling when Harry moved with him

Severus tried to take mental pictures of Harry's face as it contorted with pleasure and desire. He wanted to remember that he had the power to provide this hero with a reprieve. Harry was twenty-one now, but he had been forced to become so much already. Tilting his head upon Harry's forehead to bring their lips together again, being inside of him, connected so intimately and moving in almost a perfect syncrony, Severus swore to the gods and whoever else was listening that he would never again give up this man without a fight.

"Forgive me mon petit chat," Severus whispered very softly into Harry's ear, "But it seems that...I am still in love with you."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the confession. He murmured Severus' name in a broken whisper before he brought their lips crashing together again. He tightened his hold on the other wizard, pulling him deeper now with every thrust. He fought back tears as if he was suddenly afraid that he would make a fool of himself by crying.

Not that Severus cared as he felt Harry's body shudder beneath him. He watched as the green eyes became clouded with abandonment. Deep inside of Harry he felt the wave of Harry's release and it called to him until his own body followed suit. And no matter what he wanted, he couldn't fight his own reaction, because suddenly he was spilling hot liquid into the cave of Harry's body. He wished that he could make the moment last a lifetime.

When it was over and their breathing returned to normal, Severus slipped out of Harry and called his wand to him. A quick wave and a spell cleaned them. Harry moved into his arms again, resting his head on Severus' chest as one hand traced light fingertips along the clear pale flesh of the inner part of Severus' left arm.

"You don't know how long I wanted for you to say that." Harry broke the silence with the softly spoken words. "Is it wrong that I have loved you forever? I think I loved you even when I was five and you were the first person to be so kind to me that I couldn't forget you. It only became something more complex and deeper as I got older."

Severus cradled Harry's head through the mop of black hair. He tried not to focus on the way the candles in the room gave Harry an almost etheral glow that didn't actually work as well with his own pale flesh. He tried not to trace the lines of long scars on Harry's back that two years had not been able to fully fade away. He wanted to remember the beauty of Harry and not the pain he had caused him. He would never hurt this man again, he swore to himself.

"I don't believe I told you thank you," he said aloud instead.

Harry raised his head to rest his chin on Severus' chest. "What for?"

"For saving the world. For convincing the Wizengamot of my innocence," Severus responded softly. "For forgiving me of my betrayal."

"You never betrayed me."

"And I suppose you ended up in Voldemort's presence all by yourself?" Severus raised an eyebrow in a perfect arch.

Harry blushed. "I trusted you. I still trust you. Besides, that's all in the past now. I don't want to think about it any more. There is so much left in the world to do but I want to forget it all. I gave up everything I could for a long time. I think it's right that I get what I want after all this time."

Severus traced Harry's nose from the faded lightning bolt scar to the slight upturned tip. Then he tried in vain to smudge the perfect cupid's bow of Harry's lips with his thumb. He wondered if he could ever bottle the glowing emerald shade of Harry's eyes or the perfect blend of peach and pink and cream that was Harry's complexion.

"Tell me what you want and I will give it to you," he whispered. "Show me what to do and I will do it for you. And ask me anything and I will walk to eternity to please you."

Harry chuckled. "I don't need a servant. I don't need to be worshipped by you or any one else for anything that I did. I just need for you to love me for as long as you can."

Severus, hooked a finger beneath Harry's chin and he mock glared at the wizard who was purity incarnate.

"Then you're way too easy to please Potter," he responded lightly. "My heart is already yours for as long as you want it."

Harry beamed at him, before shuffling enough that he was lying against Severus' chest again. His fingers played on the smooth paleness of Severus' skin. His caress was light, like feathers against Severus' flesh before they finally slowed as Harry drifted asleep in Severus' arms.

Severus held on to him, holding him as tightly as he had not dared to do before. He savored the moment and the miracle of being able to just be there holding his little cat in his arms once again. Soon he would rise from the bed to get his wand from where it had once again fallen to the floor and he would call his paints and brushes and canvas to himself. Soon he could give into his artistic side and draw Harry asleep, draped in silk and naked in his bed. Soon. But until then he caressed the smooth cheeks and tried to tame the wild black hair.

"He is mine," Severus whispered aloud into the darkness to the broken demons and the smiling angels that always seemed to hover over them. "He is mine and I will be there to protect him. Always."

x-X-x

**The End**

**_A/N_** – If you found it frustrating that there are no French translations in this fic, please read the explanation on this page (coeur-de-ma-vie . livejournal . com/71980 . html). After which, if you'd still like to review I will still be very happy to hear from you.


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